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_The_ JACK for MAYOR

By

Pringle McCloy

# Prologue

WILLY'S WEDDING DAY STARTED QUIETLY, so quietly I had too much time to think. ' _Where had the time gone? Where were those two little boys who threw rocks at neighbor's windows and promptly received a spanking for the crime? That would be Willy and me. And yes, we peed on Judge Clark's azaleas and shot his yellow canary with a bibi gun twice, once before it died and once after. I shot the canary, yes. Then Willy shot the dead canary so he could share the blame. It was how blood brothers operated when they were kids, although I have to say that until I met Willy Chan I hadn't shot a single canary or a bird of any kind. Nor had I thrown rocks through windows._

It was all Willy's fault. Willy came from a crime family and was a seasoned crook before I came along at age ten. And speaking of crime families, my new surrogate dad, Jack, was also a criminal so I didn't stand a chance. Soon I was pouring his whisky and falling asleep in a library chair listening to Jack and Tony Chan, Willy's uncle, talk about shell companies and where they would next send their freshly laundered money. I didn't know why they washed their money but thought it might have something to do with the Queen's cranky face. There was talk about bank accounts in Switzerland, the Caymans, and the British Virgin Islands so I knew we weren't broke - just a long way away from our stash.'

So, there I was, standing on the church steps dragging on a cigarette while watching the parade of collector cars arrive. Jack's gang was cruising in led by Sharp-dressed Tony, Sammy, and the lot. Behind them, Shorty Poo was parking Richard's Hummer but because he could barely see over the steering wheel he smacked the curb. Billy the Bookie arrived with his trio of buxom blonds, not bad for a guy pushing eighty. His secret? Herbs. His stamina came from herbs, he told people, if the coca plant was actually a herb.

__ Tommy came up the steps alongside lovely, dark-haired Christa, his pregnant wife. God, he looked like Richard, with his chiseled Asian features and the sharp eyes of a falcon. His charcoal hair was seriously slicked back.

"Best man, huh, Charlie. Willy couldn't find anyone else? I hear he looked hard."

I punched him on the shoulder. "Not hard enough. I hate these things. But Jillian is matron of honor so I'm pretty much stuck."

Tommy turned to his wife. "Can you believe that Charlie has stayed straight? A PI in a family of major crooks?"

I smiled. "Someone has to make bail."

As they moved along with the crowd a second Tommy sauntered up the steps. He was taller and slightly better looking, given the maturity of age. Almost forty, Tommy's dad was greying at the temples.

"Charlie. Awfully good to see you, old boy."

I always found it hard not to giggle when the biggest drug lord on _The Pacific Rim_ spoke in the accent he'd acquired at _Oxford._ Given our previous history I didn't like Richard Chang and, to say the least, Richard didn't like me. But since Jack was following closely behind I shook his son's hand. "Have you no cousins to kill, Richard? So you can fake your own death again? Weddings must seem very tame to you."

Behind Richard, his stocky little bodyguard, Shorty Poo, was giving me the finger. "You bad man Cha'lee. Very bad man."

I smiled. "Thanks, Shorty. You're still an ugly little prick. And getting uglier every day."

His turn to smile. "You big phony, Cha'lee. You full of bad gas. You stink like skunk."

Richard smiled, a rarity. "His English is improving every day. I'm quite proud of him, actually."

With that, Richard moved along, dragging Shorty and King Kong Chin _the butcher_ behind.

Next came handsome Jack, my surrogate dad, dressed in the tux he'd worn to all Jillian's weddings and with his sandy curls held in place by gel. He pawed his bushy mustache. "Had a little talk with your brother, did you, Hamster? What's Richard up to these days? Besides torture and murder."

"That about covers it. But you're his dad. You should know better than anyone."

His round green eyes crinkled at the corners. "He doesn't exactly come for Sunday dinners as you well know since you're mostly there. When you're not off murdering people yourself."

"Guilty. Since my father-in-law is a serial kidnap victim I often have to rescue him. And maybe kill a few kidnappers in the process."

He grinned. "How else would you make a living? Following adulterers? I'm a lot more fun."

"A lot more trouble, you mean."

He slapped me on the shoulder. "You wouldn't have it any other way. You and Willy would be bored to death without me to keep you busy. So don't come crying to me."

After Jack moved along my lifelong best bud came ambling up the steps, cigarette in hand. He shook his shiny dark hair. "So, now I'm going to be as miserable as you, Hampton. Married. I never actually took myself for a fool."

I guessed not. Willy had the IQ of _Nasa_ and in the past had mostly stuck to hookers whom he paid not to speak. Ever. About Willy. Willy is a crook - not the kind of crook that robs banks with guns, rather the type of crook that breaks through firewalls and into bank accounts. A more talented computer-hacker is hard to find. Willy wears his shiny dark hair shoulder length and his round eyes speckled brown. Whiter teeth come only on toothpaste commercials and they glisten when he smiles. A better-looking guy than Willy doesn't exist, on this planet at least, and the navy Gucci tux didn't hurt him either.

"Are you ready, bud?"

Again he shook his shiny dark hair. "I'll never be ready but it's too late now."

SIX MONTHS EARLIER

# Chapter One

JACK'S HOUSE IN BRITISH PROPERTIES perched on the mountainside, four stories deep. Sprawling behind lush hedges the concrete fortress hosted thick black doors and a garage for his collection of antique cars, including a Talbot Lagos worth several million bucks. But I wasn't thinking about cars on that rainy Sunday afternoon last October, I was thinking of doom. Jack had called us all together to make a big announcement, not that he needed an excuse to throw a party since he threw one every Sunday, but announcement parties were disconcerting, to my way of thinking.

Inside Jack's house a sea of hardwood flowed down the stairways like a log run on the Frazer while crystal chandeliers lit the halls. Shoeshine Fatso met me at the door. "Got any weapons, Charlie?" he boomed. Shoeshine was a large handsome man, a Jackie Gleason type whose thick dark curls were greying now, his mustache too.

"Just the usual. One in my holster and one in my sock."

"Don't be a smartass today," he warned. "Jack needs your support."

About Jack's lude statues. David in the foyer alcove didn't like me and threatened to fall over and crush me whenever I showed up at 33 Terrace Place. "It's penis envy," I told Shoeshine. "He's swaying again."

Shoeshine grunted. "Give it a rest. He's not real, Charlie. He can't hurt you." He pushed me into an expansive living room of white leather sofas, animal print chairs, leafy palm trees and Moroccan treasures placed here and there. Not to mention thugs. Wall-to-wall thugs. But my favorite part of the room was a glitzy bar of mirrors and decanters and silver shakers, also whisky. A lot of whisky.

"Make mine big," said a familiar voice behind me. "And don't be so skimpy this time."

I made Jack's whisky big.

"Where's your family?" he barked.

"I was going to ask you since you actually live here. I just arrived."

His eyes crinkled at the corners. "It must be nice to come and go like a teenager."

I stared him down. "It's what my wife wants and you well know it. You want it too. It's an arrangement agreed upon by the family. I didn't even get a say."

He giggled. "You must have had some say since you have a daughter and are about to be blessed with a son. I'd say you've had a lot of say."

Lovely Julia, Jack's older sister by a year, came floating by in taupe. Her sleek dark hair went twisting into a knot. She planted a kiss on both my cheeks. "Jillian's resting. She's not coming down but wants you to go up for a short visit. She's due this week as you know."

I knew. "I'll stay over tonight in my old room downstairs. I told her I'd stay over every night until the baby arrives."

Julia widened her hazel eyes. "Good. That's great, in fact. You are the calm one in the family."

"Baby Jack!" Jack said proudly. "She's naming the baby after me."

I nodded. "We are. I had some say in it you know."

"Funny but I never thought you liked me."

We all laughed. "Sometimes I don't. But mostly I do."

He slapped me on the back. "You're alright, Hamster. You're more like me than my real son. You just don't know it yet. Willy's in the library on his computer stealing things. He's coming for the announcement. But go up and see Jillian first. We don't need her mad at us."

I took the stairs two at a time. In Jillian's bedroom, Isabella was sitting at the dressing table working on a puzzle.

"What?" I said. "An old-fashioned jigsaw puzzle? I didn't know they made those anymore."

After pushing back her long dark hair she leapt into my arms. "Mom's making me, Dad. I don't want to. I want to play computer games but she won't let me."

"I'll tell your dad on her then."

"You are my dad. Everyone says I look like you."

She did. Lucky girl.

We sat down beside Jillian who was sitting with the head raised on her bed. She was so damn beautiful with her round hazel eyes, straight determined nose, and wiry blond curls that went tumbling down her back. And always adamant. "She's on that computer twenty/four seven and she needs to rest her eyes. She'll be blind before she reaches the age of six. I make her read to me too. She's a good reader for five. I taught her myself, being housebound." She stuck out her foot. "Electronic bracelet and all."

House arrest. Another story and not uncommon for an activist trying to save the planet.

Isabella eyed the pink gift bag in my hand. "I love pink! And pretty pink ribbons. Does it have bugs?"

"I thought we got that straight. No bugs. Maya has your chocolate bugs in the fridge and when they get low she'll tell me so I can buy more. Ok?"

She untied the ribbon and opened the box inside. "A bracelet! Did you steal it, Dad? Am I a criminal too?"

"I don't think so. Unless you've been doing things I don't know about. Have you?"

She giggled. "I'm practicing." She plucked her bracelet from the box. "It has pink elephants and silver tigers and everything. I love it, Dad! I love silver and pink. She plastered a wet kiss on my cheek."

I fastened it on her wrist. "It's a charm bracelet. Cartier for my girl."

She squinted at Jillian. "Is it expensive?"

Jillian nodded. "Very. And tell your dad I want Cartier too. A grown up one but Cartier nevertheless."

"Hampton!" hollered a voice from the bottom of the stairs. "Get your skinny ass down here. Hurry up or you'll miss the announcement."

"Shall I take our girl?"

Jillian nodded. "Please. I'd like to get some rest."

Willy was waiting at the bottom of the stairs. "Is he sending us off somewhere again?"

"You, maybe but I'm not leaving Jillian. We're about to have a son."

Willy shook Isabella's hand. "Are you excited about your new brother being delivered?"

She cocked her head. "Is he coming by mail? Mom said he was coming by stork. That's if the stork doesn't drop him. Then he won't be coming at all."

The living room was packed like a trunkful of cigars, standing room only. The guys had removed the legs on the big leather ottoman that Jack typically used as a podium. He rang the old school bell. "Friends, Romans and countrymen. Drunks too. Lend me your ears."

Tony Chan was standing below Jack. "You're not getting my ears. Take the ears from the drunks. They won't miss them tonight."

Laughter. Jack and Tony were a team.

"People!" Jack hollered. "I have asked you here this afternoon to tell you of my decision. I have decided to run for mayor of West Vancouver."

Pandemonium. The lineup for the bar snaked right around the block. The Jack for mayor? Holy crap!

Jack took the accolades to heart. "Family. Please approach. Julia and Peter. Hamster and Isabella. Willy too. You're family, Willy."

Willy giggled. "I had hoped not." But he hopped up on the ottoman beside me. "You realize what's next, don't you, Hampton? Let's just get him kidnapped tonight. Save us all from campaigning. I know I'm not going door to door."

We smiled for the reporters who were snapping and asking questions, like had Jack been cleared of all criminal charges on the Leo Cheng murder. He preferred to answer other questions.

I elbowed Willy in the ribs. "Want to tell them that you murdered Leo?"

"Not at this time."

Isabella overheard our conversation. "Did you murder Leo, Willy?" she said in a loud voice. "Dad murders people so you likely do too."

Jack addressed the press. "Do you see the humor in our family? Always joking. And West Van City Hall could use a little humor. Enough with the questions now. Let's celebrate. Let's have a party today." With that he hopped down from the bench and headed for the bar.

Enough drama? Not nearly enough. Shoeshine approached talking fast. "It's Jillian. She's at the top of the stairs. Her water broke."

So, off to _The Lions Gate Hospital_ to deliver our son. The problem? Several cars followed closely behind. "Unfortunately, they won't let us do this alone," I told my beautiful wife. "The big Phantom IV is right behind us with Shoeshine chauffeuring Jack and Tony. And god knows who's behind them. Willy, I think. Sorry, Sweetheart."

She smiled. "Not your fault. We might have known Jack would be there and Jack is not your fault. He's my dad and I can't control him so how can you? You'll have to keep them in the waiting room and not running all over hell."

"I want to be with you."

"You can go back and forth and with any luck you'll be with me for the delivery. It's the best we can do."

It was. While Jillian was wheeled off to the delivery suite I stayed behind to entertain the troops. In addition to the aforementioned there was Hughie the Hopeful who'd overdosed on Viagra; Bob Along, Hughie's little brother so called because everywhere Hughie went people asked, 'Is Bob along'? Bob Along worked from home, a bit of a stretch for a forklift operator; there was Sammy in the tree, on payroll at eighty-five and still shimming up a tree faster than a squirrel. Once a year, Jack called his workers to watch Sammy's feat and when Sammy reached the treetop, Jack would holler up, 'Anyone gunning for me, Sammy?' 'Nope. Coast is clear, Jack'. Following this escapade everyone would cram into Jack's warehouse office to celebrate with whisky, doubles for Sammy who'd need assistance home.

And let's not forget Billy the Bookie who arrived at the hospital with all three stacked blonds in tow. Not that he was betting on the sex of Baby Jack he was taking bets on how soon Charlie would take a bullet for Jack, since I was bound to be the new mayor's bodyguard and Jack had serious foes. Billy told me that most of Jack's boys were hoping it would be soon but were betting the reverse because I didn't kill easy. Nice. I arrived in the delivery suite just in time to see Baby Jack come into the world, kicking and screaming. Dr. Ben had bad news, though.

"He looks like your dad, Jillian. Look at the square head. He's a Jones alright."

He did. He looked like Jack with his cubic head and heavy eyelids. Oh, well. Isabella looked like me with her dark hair and electric blue eyes. And I was the proud father of a healthy baby boy.

It wasn't all roses however as Peter Selic, Jack's inside cop, poked his head in the door. Blond and Nordic looking, and Versace from head to toe, Peter ploughed his fingers through his thick hair. He was Julia's man – a May-December thing that was supposed to last a month and was now bordering six years. "Sorry, Jillian. I've come to arrest you. According to your ankle bracelet you've left home. For no good reason other than to pop a kid."

We all laughed.

He backed away. "Congratulations and I'll stall them. But you have to name your next son Peter."

# Chapter Two

ON DAYS I'M LUCKY ENOUGH to stop by my office I routinely water Robert the Plant, a sprawling rubber plant that consumes an entire wall. Following this activity I straighten _Chestnut Gelding,_ a twelve-inch by twelve-inch portrait I won at a silent auction. The horse is a conversation piece, possibly because he's small, and prospective clients will invariably want to know its name. So, I connect with them by telling English clients the horse is Harry, to Polish the horse is Pete, to the French he's Pierre, and so on. To the Chinese he used to be Ming before Tony got uppity and renamed him Tang of Shang after a Chinese Emperor. And speaking of Tony, he dropped by my office the day after I brought Jillian and Baby Jack home from the hospital. He sat in the rickety armchair across from my nice tin desk, chauffeur cap on his lap. While he was getting too old to chauffeur now he refused to retire.

"We have work to do," he started. "First we have to find an office in Ambleside Village."

"We? Why don't I like that 'we' word? What's wrong with Jack?"

His old brown eyes twinkled. "You don't expect the future mayor to perform menial tasks, do you? He never has so why would he start now?"

I smiled. "So, who am I in this campaign? Joe boy?"

He nodded. "Something like that. You and Willy. Once we get set up you'll be his bodyguards since Shoeshine is getting shaky."

"He won't like it. You'll have to include Shoeshine or his feelings will be hurt."

"He'll be Jack's driver. But you're right. When he's not driving Jack he can back you and Willy up."

"Now I feel a lot better. Shoeshine is half-blind. If he doesn't kill Jack on the road he'll likely shoot all the wrong people."

"Will there be shooting?"

"I hope not. But Jack has a lot of enemies so you never know. I'm not ruling anything out. He'll be running against Susan Miller, an old biddy who hates Jack and has the power to eliminate him if so inclined. She has her own goons. Then there's Victor Blackstone, a local businessman. He's well known in West Van due to his real estate holdings and community involvement. I'm not sure Jack can compete with that."

"Jack is well known in West Van too."

"Not for the reasons we'd like. Jack is a mobster."

"Not everyone knows that. His West Van cronies are legit. Once we get set up we'll parade them by often. To legitimize him."

"I see. So, you're going to be his campaign manager then."

"No. Julia will be his campaign manager. She's known as a straight-laced business woman. She's also a beauty and her face will draw people in."

"Good choice. But I have a job, Tony. I don't want to be Jack's fucking thug."

He scratched his old grey head. "It wouldn't be the first time and it won't be the last. This isn't optional but he pays well as you know. Who pays you better than Jack?"

He had me there. "It isn't always about the money."

"Stop whining and get on your computer to find us a space. We haven't got all day."

So it began. I leased an office space with windows facing the streets of Bellevue Avenue. The outer office contained four large desks while two inner offices served as meeting rooms, each containing a table and chairs, also a desk. Julia would have the office by the windows to serve as eye candy and Jack would have the inside office without windows for his own protection. Done.

Julia's first order of the day was to hire a publicist and she did this from home, given that it would take a few days for technology to arrive at campaign headquarters. Jack posed for a mug shot for pamphlets and posters, ribbons and buttons as well. Rather than standing around waiting for something bad to happen I took my two favorite former employees out for dim sum in Chinatown. But they weren't happy.

"I'm not going back to the mouse hole, Amster." Jackie Chan's hair stood straight as a brush atop his head, three inches high. It used to be four but he was growing more conservative now. "I hate it there."

I smiled remembering my first encounter with little Jackie Chan.

Flashback:

I arrived at Richard's residence at 7:45 a.m. The sprawling bungalow lay hidden behind tall cedar hedges - freshly-clipped and smelling like Christmas. As per instructions I waited by my car for my new tennis partner to be delivered by Tony Chan but I wasn't hopeful. Although Tony had insisted that his latest smuggled-in-nephew had won trophies in Beijing he thought they might be for golf. No difference, Tony thought. His nephew was very good at sports so we just had to trust. Great. My trust level on the Richter scale measured -10. Soon the big Phantom IV pulled up behind me and when the back door flew open out popped a grinning, hopping Jackie Chan who reached my side faster than a jackrabbit.

"Amster!" he cried. "So appy! Appy, appy." He held out his little hand.

Tony quickly made the introductions before speeding off. "He can't say Charlie. He can only say Chow-we. In Chinese that's not so good. Trust me, you wouldn't want to be called Chow-we. So I told him to call you Hamster. Hope you don't mind." He burned rubber peeling away.

Jackie just stood there grinning. "Amster! So appy!"

My heart sank but not unfathomably, strangely enough. You see, I'd done a lot of bad things in my life so I figured that karma had come to kick my butt. I'd been waiting for the day, actually, so I was somewhat relieved. Maybe I did deserve a partner in a yellow basketball uniform with shorts long enough to trip over if he didn't keep hauling them up. To his credit Jackie was decidedly eager, hopping up and down and fanning the air with an old wooden tennis racquet still in its press, a relic rescued from Tony's attic. Maybe we could win, with a little assistance - with help from a tornado, a tsunami, and an obscure god.

So, back to the Chinese restaurant and me saying, "I'll pay you more than Richard's paying you."

'Right. Wichard is paying us wots."

Billy Chan, a smaller version of Jackie, nodded. "Wots."

As cart after cart wheeled by in the red restaurant, and the Chan brothers loaded up, I said, "Does Richard buy you dim sum?"

Jackie made a sour face. "Wichard doesn't eat yum chow. Wichard eats round-eye food. Salads and fish. Yuk!"

"You don't like fish?"

"No," Billy whined. "We wike shrimps only. No fish with big eyes."

"And scales," Jackie added.

I sipped my whisky lunch. "So, let's make a deal. I'll pay you twice what Richard is paying you and send you shrimps and dumplings every day. Deal?"

They squinted at each other. "Wichard will be mad."

"I'll deal with Richard. He's Jack's son so has a vested interest in the election. If I handle Richard do we have a deal?"

Jackie frowned at me. "Is Jack paying?"

I nodded. "Jack is paying. I don't need two of you in the spying apartment so we'll alternate. And the one that isn't spying can come work at campaign headquarters. Deal?"

They reluctantly nodded. "Only if Jack is paying, Amster." Jackie was gnawing on a chicken foot. "No phony cheques from you either. Cash."

I smiled. "Cash it is."

Richard's West Van beach house was not my favorite dwelling, given that I'd been tied up there waiting to die, along with Jackie Chan. But that's another story. In this story I exited Marine Drive and followed the winding driveway to the sprawling structure on a cliff. I waved to his outside guards and dogs but they turned away, preferring to ignore me. Just as well. I walked to the tennis court out back and followed a path to the patio doors where Shorty Poo met me with words.

"You bad man, Cha'lee. Very bad man."

"Want your ass kicked, Shorty?"

He patted his visible holster. "Want a hole in head, Cha'lee?"

This wasn't fun with Shorty learning English. Not fun at all. So, maybe he was sixty and deserved a little respect. And I'd give him some had he not held a gun to my head in this very same room. We weren't going to be playing pool on the mahogany billiards table, I can tell you that. Behind Shorty, Richard was making his way down the stairs looking dangerous. Now where had I first seen this handsome Triad drug lord? Well, I was spying on Leo, his underboss, when Richard happened along.

Flashback:

Soon the service elevator clanged and when the door to Leo's suite flew open my chin hit my chest. There they were! The big boys. Four of the most formidable dudes on the planet. Enter the boss, Richard the Cleaver Chang, who stretched well above six-feet and oozed an air of importance, a presence mostly acquired at maturity, not mastered at thirty-three. He was a handsome devil too, with chiseled Asian features and the sharp eyes of a falcon. He meant business in his expensive, dark-olive suit and with his hair slicked seriously back, like he was suddenly DeNiro late for a funeral on the lot. There wasn't a smile to be found anywhere on his face.

On Richard's heels marched King Kong Chin, the Butcher, beady-eyed, balding and anxious, while Fat Freddy Fong, with no eyes to speak of, trudged along behind. Lastly, and most deadly according to the rumor mill, traipsed Sweet Shorty Poo, teetering on platform shoes and still not measuring five feet tall.

I was like an awestruck kid. I mean, scientists could launch a spaceship to Pluto with the energy in that room. I found myself smiling and wondering if these boys, as children, had played street games against other little kids who carried knives and won. Richard looked like a winner to me. And as for Shorty, well. I'd soon learn not to make fun of Shorty Poo.

Richard motioned to Shorty who left to pour the drinks. It wasn't fair. Richard looked like a Greek god dressed only in sports gear and soft-soled shoes. I felt like his dad.

He gripped my hand. "Can you believe it, Charlie?" he said in his soft English accent. "Jack running for mayor? How crazy does he get?"

"Crazy. That pretty much sums it up."

"Why?"

"He's your dad. Why don't you ask him? I can't figure him out."

Shorty arrived with the drinks. "Scotch. For both."

The little shit knew I never drank scotch.

So did Richard. He said something to Shorty in Chinese and Shorty snatched up my drink. He returned with a tumbler of Canadian Club but was not happy. "Next time scotch," he said in a threatening voice before mumbling away.

Richard half-smiled. "What he's saying is that you're a lot of work. It's easier if we both drink the same liquor. Shorty is turning sixty-one and wants to retire. He's been ordering Jackie and Billy around, treating them like servants."

"Are they to be his replacements?"

"I hope not. I don't know what they do with all that stuff they steal but they're not exactly trustworthy. They're cleaning me out."

"So you won't mind if I borrow them for an assignment?"

"Mind? I'll pay you to take them."

# Chapter Three

I ARRIVED AT THE PORT just in time for the cocktail hours and to catch the tumbler of whisky spinning towards me across the desk. Jack's eyes crinkled at the corners.

"Why aren't you home with your wife and baby?"

"Maybe because my wife doesn't want me there. She told me to get lost. She's going to train the new nanny and doesn't want me interfering. Can you believe it?"

He nodded. "You're a clod and she doesn't want you in the way."

"Something like that. But mostly she wants me to help you with your new campaign so you don't get yourself shot. She told me to take a bullet for you." I could see the bustling of Port Vancouver though Jack's office windows as huge cranes rose to deposit lumber and grain and sulfur into the bowels of freighters. I could smell the algae and it smelled like home.

I leaned back in my chair. "So, tell me, Jack. Exactly why are you running for mayor?"

He narrowed his eyes. "What? You don't think I'm qualified?"

"That's debatable. You're smart. No doubt about it or you wouldn't have amassed a fortune. But your people skills could improve. You'll have to debate, you realize, and you can't exactly call your opponents fucking morons."

He giggled. "Oh, no? I plan to do just that. That's what West Van needs. A guy who calls a spade a spade."

"Not a shithead?"

"That too. That braggart, Victor Blackstone, will get told I can tell you that. And skinny Susan Miller is no better. Eat butter I'm going to tell her. And a little bread won't hurt you either. Enough with the lettuce already."

"I think that's personal, Jack. Like maybe you should talk about your plans for the city."

He leaned back in his chair. "That's not personal? Anyway, I'm thinking of bringing in a huge casino so people here will have something to do besides walk the Seawalk. It's pathetic they have nothing better to do. Walk. Walk. Walk." He sounded like a duck.

I nodded. "Maybe you should run that by city councilors and statistics to see how many residents like to walk as opposed to gambling. And see how they feel about all the traffic a casino would bring. I suspect that most like the peaceful pace in old West Van. Just an opinion."

"I can't believe I raised you! You're so boring. So predictable."

"And I can't believe you're running for mayor of a city you clearly don't understand. When did you last walk the Seawalk?"

"Never. I drove my new corvette down it once when I was a teenager. That's about it. But it was wider then, I think. I might have trouble doing that now." His eyes had a glaze to them, like if he could he would, except that he couldn't fit into the vintage car covered with a tarp in his garage.

I stood up. "Your literature will be coming soon."

"Oh, sure. Now you want me to read a fucking book. A book on manners, likely."

I left laughing.

I arrived at the spying suite just in time to see Willy walk into the Woo penthouse suite one floor above. I poured a whisky and joined the boys in front of the monitor. The cameras and microphones that Jackie had installed years ago, while posing as a roach inspector, were still in place.

Jackie was chewing on a prawn. "Is Wichard mad, Amster?"

"Sort of. He said you guys were training to replace Shorty when he retired."

He shook his head. "Shorty will retire when he dies."

I thought the very same. "He'll miss you, he said. But helping his dad is more important." I could feel my Pinocchio nose growing. "He said there will always be a job with him when this one is done. That you are valuable employees."

They both smiled, Jackie the broadest. "You lie good, Amster. Wichard only wikes us for tennis. He doesn't talk to us after that."

"How's Reynolds doing?"

"He hasn't changed. Same old Weynolds."

Flashback

The following morning, after three cups of thick coffee I'd brewed myself and spiked, I tuned in to the Chinese soap opera upstairs. For this torture I apparently needed two additional shots of whiskey, followed by a jigger of rum. Hmm... Define weird. If you look it up in Webster's it says strikingly odd or unusual just before it says Reynolds Woo. About Reynolds. Where to start... The little guy was unusual, to say the least. Firstly, he had tremendous hair, which shot sideways and wide but flat as a board on top, mostly due to the kippah he wore incorrectly on the front of his head. He didn't look Jewish to me. He had tiny hands and feet. Tinier extremities come only on Ken dolls or GI Joe action figures or newborn chimps. Little wire-rimmed glasses rested near the tip of his nose and above them a set of piercing brown eyes searched the Web as he bounced back and forth between three computers, juggling virtual 'B and E's. I got dizzy just watching him.

Lugs Nut, Reynolds' door guard, ushered Willy down the hall to the living room chatting away. Willy had gone to school in Chinatown with both Reynolds and Lugs and their mothers had played mahjong together on Saturday nights for thirty-some years - before Mini Chin, Reynolds' mom, bit it in an auto accident from cut brake lines. The Triad wasn't pretty.

Lugs had previously poured his friends' drinks – scotch and coke – so he promptly left the room. Reynolds was busy munching on a handful of cashews and pointed to the small red bowl.

"Help yourself, William. Nuts are good for you."

William hesitated. "You know I'm allergic to nuts, Reyn. But thanks anyway."

"What do you want this time?"

"Why are you asking?"

"You have the word 'favor' in your voice. Additionally, you never drop by just for fun."

Willy smiled the infectious Willy smile. "We're not always on the same side, you and I. Just recently, in Colombia, I had to smack your black cats around. But I didn't shoot them. I just sent them home."

He shrugged. "Didn't matter to me either way. I don't care about them. If they failed in their task I don't want them anymore."

"I heard they quit."

Reynolds cocked his head. "Where did you hear that?"

"From the black cats you had guarding the door after they took Jack and his grandson hostage here. Do you know that Mitchell was one of them? Christ, Reyn! We went to school with Donny Wang, his dad. Why are you hiring children?"

He again shrugged. "Lugs hired them. I didn't know they were kids. I never saw their faces. But Lugs said you and Charlie came for Jack and Tommy. Charlie was in Colombia too, I hear. I hate Charlie."

"So you say."

"He stole from me. I hired him for an assignment that he never even planned to carry out. He scammed me."

"He gave the money back. Why are you still harping on that old matter? You need to move on, Reyn."

"I don't like being scammed."

Willy grinned. "No one does. You and I are too smart for that, aren't we Reyn?"

Reynolds stretched his neck. "What do you want, William?"

"I need you to get into a couple of computers. I would but I'm on assignment. I know your fee and we're prepared to pay it."

"Who is this _we_ person? Not Charlie!"

"Not Charlie. It's Jack Jones. The big man you've kidnapped more than once."

Reynolds' drink came up through his nose."

Within days the campaign headquarters was ready - computers, phones, volunteers, and posters of Jack's ugly face everywhere, mostly on windows scaring pedestrians and motorists alike. His big sandy curls and bushy mustache lent him a furry look, kinder than he actually was. The catch? Jack. He wanted to boss everyone, even his publicist who was hired to save him from himself.

She was a brilliant young lady, no more than twenty-eight, but with a reputation far exceeding her years. Politically, she'd worked on provincial and federal campaigns and knew her stuff. Meghan was a petite woman of Asian origin with serious brown eyes and long dark hair worn in a horse tail. She wore a chic black suit and shiny black pumps with long skinny heels. The first staff meeting didn't go well. Why? Because Jack couldn't bully her. But he tried.

Meghan addressed a roomful of neophytes, although Julia's volunteer roster had yet to be filled. "I am here for the candidate. I will arrange interviews, press conferences, press releases, manage social media, and will work with the candidate on image. I'll write his speeches and coach him on interview responses. I'll be his strong right hand."

Heads nodded. He certainly could use all of that.

Jack didn't think so. "What's wrong with my image? Am I not a good-looking guy?"

"You are. Definitely. But here's how I can help. I can go through your wardrobe and pick out the more tailored clothes to give you a sharp-dressed image. Would you be opposed to that?"

Jack pointed to Tony. "Sharp-dressed Tony can help me with that so stay out of my closet."

She smiled. "Great. He looks very capable to me."

Tony was eating a donut, icing sugar raining on his chest. Yep. Tony could help.

The good news? Meghan had her own office down the street and would work from there. However, she required meetings with Jack several times a day. In the end she tossed Jack a genuine smile. "I'm looking forward to working with you, Mr. Jones. Your reputation precedes you."

Jack finally smiled. "You've done your research, young lady, so just call me Jack."

"Jack it is." With that she hurried away.

Julia motioned me into her office and closed the door behind us. "Can you tell me why Jack is doing this? He hasn't a chance. The results of the first poll are in and he's badly trailing the other two. Victor Blackstone is leading by a wide margin but even Susan is miles ahead of Jack. He isn't liked in this town."

"I disagree. Jack is liked. He just isn't trusted. I don't think the good people of West Vancouver want him managing the coffers."

She narrowed her eyes at me. "Should I tell him about the polls?"

"I wouldn't. But you're his sister and you may get away with delivering bad news without losing an ear."

Meeting adjourned, Willy and I walked down the street to grab a coffee. "Meghan's hot," I said. "Are you interested?"

"You know I don't date nice girls, Hampton. Especially Chinese girls. Their mothers are horrible. I have a Chinese mother of my own, thank you very much. No, I'll stick with hookers and pay them not to speak. I like my women silent."

On our way back to headquarters my cell rang. It was Julia in a panic.

"You won't believe this, Charlie! But Victor Blackstone has been murdered."

I gulped. "I know what you're thinking. They'll think it was Jack."

"Of course, they will! He can't go back to jail, Charlie. He just can't."

"They can't just send him there without evidence. But you and I know they'll be looking for it. I'll just have to beat them to it. Tell Jack I'm on it. Willy will keep him safe for the time being. I'll call Peter to see what he knows."

"My Peter?"

"Well, you don't actually own him but yes. Your Peter. He'll know as much as anyone."

Willy wasn't happy. "Why do I have to babysit Jack? I'd rather be on my computer getting into Blackstone's business. That's what I do. I spend my time behind a computer not a gun."

I eyeballed him. "Maybe there's a mayor killer out there. What do you think about that?"

"I think you're full of shit but I'll cover for you. Jack won't be happy with you leaving and will be after your ass if we both leave. I'll tell Reynolds to get on it."

I slapped him on the back. "You're my best bud."

"Fuck you. Just get out of here."

In my car I called Peter on my cell. "What do you know about Blackstone?"

"He was shot in his car. In his own driveway while on his cell. The surveillance video shows two men running to a black van of some kind. SIU is on it. More details to come."

"Which residence? He has two I believe."

"Shaugnessey. Yes, he has one in West Van too but his wife and daughter live in the old mansion. He still goes there occasionally."

"Faces?"

"Covered. They were wearing balaclavas, of course. He was obviously the intended target. Somebody doesn't like him."

"Time of death?"

"Nine-thirtyish last night."

"Too early to talk to the widow?"

"Our guys have questioned her. I read the report. She didn't hear the gunshots but the neighbors did and called 911. Two of them have been questioned. She's upset, of course. Her daughter is too. There's just the two of them now in that old Shaugnessey mansion. Pretty sad."

"It is. We'll soon have Reynolds hacking into his computer and we'll know a lot more about Blackstone then we do now."

"So you've got _the Wrap_ on it. I thought he didn't like you."

"He likes Willy so I have an ace in the hole. And Jackie and Billy are in the Chinatown apartment so we'll also know what Reynolds is up to. He may try to clean Blackstone out so it's a gamble."

"That would be a bad idea. This thing is too close to home and will be monitored by our own techies."

"Reynolds knows that. But that alone is a challenge to him. There's nothing Reynolds likes better than a good challenge."

"Tell Willy to warn him."

"I'm sure he already has. Willy isn't stupid."

"You're right about that. Can you imagine the IQ of the guy and that good-looking too? It isn't fair."

"He's a bit of a god, alright. So, I'm going to pay a visit to Mrs. Blackstone. Can you preface?"

"I can. She's holding up well and will be comforted knowing everyone is on it. You know that the guys at the station suspect Jack."

"Why do you think I'm on it, sap? Of course, they'll suspect Jack. Bad things happen around the guy mostly from his own doing. But Jack didn't do it."

"How do you know?"

"Because he thinks he can beat Blackstone. Julia says the polls say Blackstone will win by a landslide but Jack doesn't know that. He actually believes he can win. You know Jack's ego. Even if he knew the poll results he has a month to improve. To buy people if he has to. No, Peter. This time it wasn't Jack."

# Chapter Four

WINTER IN VANCOUVER IS A drizzly affair with rain clouds blanketing the city, often for weeks at a time. I pulled up to the Shaugnessey mansion in my old Beemer and rested for a while, mainly because torrents of rain were threatening to ruin my slicked-back hair. A cigarette was also in order, plus a call home.

"How do you like your new brother, Isabella?"

"I don't. He cries. Sometimes he screams. He's a horrible baby."

"Doesn't he sleep a lot?"

"Sometimes but not enough. I wish he slept all the time. When he's awake Mom carries him around. She's spoiling him."

"I thought you had a nanny named Sadie."

"I don't like her. She's supposed to carry Baby Jack around so I can have Mom."

So, a little jealousy there. "I'll stop by tonight especially to see you, sweetheart. And I'll bring chocolate bugs."

"Alright, Dad. But you can't carry the baby around. You have to carry me."

"You're five years old. Can't you walk?"

"Dad. You know I can walk. Just sometimes I want to be carried."

After waving to the cops, who were watching the house from their car, I circumvented the yellow tape and made a dash through the rain to the covered veranda where I gave myself a shake. I felt like a wet dog. A very reserved gentleman opened the door a crack and peered out. "Mr. Hampton?"

I held out my card. "Charles Hampton. Private Investigator. Here to see Mrs. Blackstone."

He opened the door. "I won't take your coat because you're all wet. Just hang it on the bannister if you'd be so kind." I guessed him to be about ninety, give or take, and not that friendly. He was tall and slender and wearing a dark suit that had likely fit him at some point in time. He started off down the hallway past the wide winding staircase so I followed, passing by portraits of very old people, all dead I presumed, given their ghostly appearance. And none too happy while alive either. The butler never looked back. Eventually the wall opened to a formal living room, Victorian in style and containing more portraits of dead people. I know I was depressed.

The butler pointed to a straight-back burgundy chair as uncomfortable as it looked. "Mrs. Blackstone will be with you shortly." With that he walked away favoring his left foot.

Soon an elegant woman appeared and I rose to shake her hand. She was slim, pushing sixty from a distance, and stylish in a tight black suit. Her hair was dyed navy-blue.

"Thank you for coming, Mr. Hampton. I'm Emma Blackstone." She took the chair across from mine.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Mrs. Blackstone."

"It's a tough one. But please call me Emma and I will call you?"

"Charlie."

She smiled. "I like the name Charlie. You're very handsome and it suits you."

The butler returned to take our order.

"What's your pleasure, Charlie?" Her navy eyes questioned me. "Would you prefer tea, coffee or a drink? I'm having a sherry but our bar is fully stocked. My husband drank rye. Expensive rye. If you're a rye drinker you'll like it."

I nodded. "I am. And I will, thanks."

She sat back in her chair. "You're questioning my taste in décor, aren't you, Charlie?"

What to say? I didn't want to lie but she definitely didn't belong to the house. "How did you know?"

"It's written all over your face. So, just let me say that this was not only my parent's house it was my grandparents before that and I haven't had the heart to change things." Her eyes filled with tears. "Victor hated his house. But he had no money when we met. Nothing. So, we got married and moved in with my parents. He is what he is because of them. Or should I say he was what he was because of them. Their money set him up in real estate and he never looked back. Nor was he grateful."

I felt like a priest. Why was she burdening me?

"I see the confusion on your face, Charlie. But Victor and I weren't close. We drifted apart and stayed together out of convenience. We have a daughter who is resting right now and taking her father's death hard. They were close. Stephanie and Victor were very close. Having said that, I'm distressed over Victor's death. I cared about him. We were married for thirty-seven years and you care about someone you spent thirty-seven years with."

The butler returned with our drinks.

"Thank you, Hudson." She turned to me. "I've known Hudson all my life. He was working here when I was born so we're close, aren't we, Hudson?"

He nodded. No smile. Maybe he was too old to smile. He hobbled away.

"So, Charlie. Your turn. What do you need to know?"

"Well, firstly, to your knowledge, was there anyone who might have wanted Victor dead?"

Her eyes twinkled. "Well, I haven't told the police this but there's rather a long list. Mostly women. Victor had many affairs over the years. You might start there."

I nodded. "Anyone else?"

"Business dealings. People he might have screwed in business. While he is liked in West Van due to his big personality and always being in the news he is unscrupulous in business. He's a philanthropist with my money, however, and takes all the credit."

"So, he's liked because of your philanthropy."

"Exactly. People think it's his. And I let them." Her eyes frosted over. "I like you, Charlie so I'm going to tell you this. You know he has a house in West Vancouver and that's where he conducts business. He bought the house several years ago, with my money, so he didn't always have to come home. I call it his whore house when I'm talking to myself."

We shared a smile.

"Did you kill your husband, Emma?"

She sighed. "Trust me. I've thought about it more often than I care to admit. But I didn't kill my husband, Charlie. Someone else had the great pleasure."

We parted friendly, Emma giving me a hug.

"You must come by and meet Stephanie when she's feeling better. I see you don't wear a wedding ring."

"I'm flattered, Emma. More than you know. I don't wear my ring because it's a job hazard but I am married and the father of two kids. My wife is the daughter of Jack Jones, Victor's opponent."

Her mouth fell open. "That wacky activist is your wife?"

"Yep. It was the best I could do."

She punched me on the arm. "Well, she is beautiful. But isn't she a little crazy?"

"No. She's a lot crazy. That's why I love her."

After a short visit with my family, and appeasing Isabella by carrying her around with her bag of chocolate bugs, I was heading for my Denman Street office when Willy called me in the car. "Better drop by the warehouse. Jack is smoldering. His face is plastered all over the evening papers. All the old pictures from the Leo thing, his getting arrested and all. Mug shot too. He is not a happy camper."

"Is he blaming me?"

"Sort of. He always blames you and you know it. Nothing new about that."

I took a slug of whisky from my flask. "Tell him I'm out of town. That I'll drop by tomorrow."

"Are you kidding me? He'll have a hit put out on you by then. The reason I'm hiding in the warehouse is because he's fuming. He's taking you out on me."

"I'm just turning in, bud. I'll take the blame."

If Jack was glad to see me he didn't say so, maybe because his face was so purple he couldn't talk. No, he sat at his desk with _The Vancouver Sun_ spilling all around, some of it in shreds. I waited. I waited more. Then I extracted the flask from my pocket and glugged. He wasn't even drinking, a very scary thing. I checked my watch. Tick tock. Boy, was I going to hear about things.

Finally he cleared his throat. "You've grown, Charlie. Last time I saw you, you were five feet tall."

Ok. This was serious. He called me Charlie. He only called me Charlie when he was boiling mad. I waited.

He stared into space. "In the army they shoot deserters."

I nodded.

"But shooting is too good for you. Besides, I don't have a gun. Maybe I'll just have Willy shoot you."

I tried not to laugh. It really wasn't my fault. Somebody help me!

"I should have drowned you as a baby. And don't give me that _you didn't even know me until I was ten years old_ look. But I knew you were born because your dad worked for me, remember. And he felt bad because you were so ugly."

And?

"And you had big feet, he said. Your dad said your feet were bigger than the nurses', although they were mostly Asian so that's not too bad." He squinted at me. "Well? I'm waiting for excuses. I'm sure you have plenty. You always do."

I straightened in my chair. "I met with Emma Blackstone."

"Why? To confess the crime for me so they wouldn't blame her? She killed him. I know she did. He cheated on her for years. It's a well-known fact."

I nodded. "She told me that. Maybe she did kill him. Or maybe somebody else did. My job is to find the killer so they don't arrest you."

He pulled the whisky bottle from his top desk drawer. "You're a good man, Hamster. Always looking out for your dear old dad."

# Chapter Five

AT THE MOUSE SUITE I DEALT with two disgruntled employees and, fortunately for me, I'd picked up a whack of Chinese food to appease the whiny brothers.

Jackie removed two plates from the cupboard and meticulously arranged the sauces. "You said one of us could go to Jack's new office. But you weft both of us here."

"Don't blame me. I told Tony to pick one of you up."

Billy was opening the cartons. "You lie good, Amster. Kow Gong says you didn't tell him. We texted."

Oh, shit. I forgot. "Tony's too old to remember things," I lied. "I'll have to write everything down from now on."

Two pairs of eyes glared at me. "We made a list," Jackie said. "I go tomorrow and Billy the next day. That way you won't forget us, Amster."

I snatched up a prawn. "What's going on upstairs?"

Billy was talking with his mouth full. "Stwealing. Weynolds is taking money from people."

"What people?"

"New bank account. Big one. Wots."

"I see. Is it here in West Van?"

Jackie scowled. "Numbers. The company has numbers."

"Do you have them?"

He pointed to his notebook. "Of course. I'm good at my job."

I opened the book and snapped a picture with my cell and, after forwarding it to Willy, prepared to leave. "So, Tony is picking you up in the morning, Jackie?"

He nodded. "You'd just forget, Amster. You always do."

She stood in my office doorway lightly knocking. I'd seen her somewhere before, possibly in the Vancouver papers, a very classy dame. Maybe five-seven, decidedly thin, and dressed to kill in dark designer threads, she dragged a silver mink wrap along behind her. Silky dark hair went travelling down her back in soft curls.

I checked my watch. Ten past ten p.m. "Come in, Stephanie. What took you so long?"

She smiled a smile of red lipstick and professionally whitened teeth. She was gorgeous. Gorgeous and scared of my rickety client chair.

"It won't bite you. But if it does I'm insured."

She gingerly sat down. "My mother likes you so I thought maybe I could trust you. You know that my father was murdered last night."

"I do. And I'm sorry. Very sorry for your loss."

Her glossy brown eyes filled with tears. "It's hard. We were close."

I nodded. "Do you drink, Stephanie? I only have whisky but maybe we could both use a shot."

Her turn to nod. "I'd like that."

I extracted the bottle from my top desk drawer and poured a couple. She sipped hers slowly. "I'm hoping you can find my father's murderer. It isn't right what happened to him. Money is no object. I'm not sure about my father's finances but my mother is worth plenty. We can likely afford you."

I sat back in my chair. "I'm already working on your father's murder, Stephanie. You see, Jack Jones is my father-in-law and I don't want him blamed."

Her round brown eyes twinkled. "You're not married to Jillian!"

"Your mother didn't tell you?"

She shook her head. "You have my deepest sympathy, sir."

"Call me Charlie. And yes, my wife is a bit of a publicity hog with her tree saving etcetera. But we have a new baby so she's being civilized for the moment."

She smiled. "Charlie. I'd really like to help find my father's killer. It isn't Jack, is it?"

"No. We can rule Jack out. Jack didn't know the polls. He actually thought he was ahead. Jack thinks he's about the most popular guy in West Van. Vancouver too. Maybe even the lower mainland. Huge ego."

"What about Susan?"

"Possibly. She's on the list."

"I'd be happy to write you a cheque."

"Not necessary. I'm well paid. Just take care of yourself. I'll keep in touch with you and your mom. Deal?"

She nodded.

I followed her down the stairs and into a rainy night.

Something about Stephanie Blackstone was sticking in my craw. She was thirty-six years old, unmarried, and still living at home with all the old portraits of dead people staring her back. And it wasn't for lack of money. Additionally, she was beautiful and smart, well-educated and articulate. So what was with Stephanie Blackstone?

The following morning I dropped into Susan Miller's campaign headquarters on Marine Drive. Posh, compared to Jack's, and staffed by West Van's own martini dollies who were busy manning the phones. Money. Diamond and pearl money, sitting around on designer duds looking important. Susan was also a pearl person, small and wiry and curt. Dragging sixty and holding, I figured, as she came rushing forward to greet me.

"The police have already questioned me," she yapped. "I have nothing more to say."

I screwed up my face. "Sounds like fear to me. What are you scared of, Susan?" Youth? I wanted to say.

That did it. She stomped away. "Call the police," she shouted to a portly woman about her own age. "This rude detective is Jack Jones' son-in-law. Or son. They're incestuous so one can never quite tell."

I made a mental note to see what Reynolds had come up with on Susan and to tail her myself. Maybe she hadn't killed Victor Blackstone but she had something to hide. Everyone did.

Back at Jack's campaign headquarters things were heating up. A new volunteer was chatting up Willy at a desk, nose to nose, when I happened by.

"What's with the work ethic, Stephanie? I thought I told you to go home and rest."

She tossed me the white tooth smile. "I need to keep busy. I'll go crazy if I don't. I know Julia from our mutual charity events and she said I could volunteer so that's what I'm doing." She opened the leger on her desk. "I'm on telephone brigade." She removed a pen and pair of glasses from her bag and started to dial.

I motioned Willie to the door. "What the hell? Her dad died two nights ago. What the hell?"

"Who cares? She's a good-looking specimen so let her work. I'm not opposed to watching her I can tell you that."

I gave my head a shake. "Do you think she's in shock?"

"Don't know. Don't care. She's better looking than those old white men Julia rounded up. Way better."

"Well, while you're drooling get into her computer. She's not on Reynolds' list is she?"

"No."

"Then see what's she's been up to. I need to know, pal."

"What? I get to do something more interesting than guarding Jack?"

Next stop was Victor Blackstone's campaign headquarters, a gloomy scene. Not much going on, as one might expect, just a lot of papers strewn about and a middle-aged couple coming out of a corner office looking flushed. I tried to cheer them up.

"Charles Hampton, PI." I held out my card. "You look like you could use a drink."

The stiffly-coiffed blond wearing a pink knit suit was much too young to look so old. She smacked her lips. "We don't drink in the morning."

"I see. You speak for the gentleman too, do you?"

The balding man named Tom said, "No. I speak for myself. What have you got?"

I plucked the flask from my pocket. "Whisky. You got a glass?"

He rescued one from a desk and I filled it full, since he looked like a man who wouldn't ask for seconds. "So, who are you, Tom? Campaign manager?"

"Brother. Business partner. I work out of our office in Dundarave. I just stopped by to collect some things. We're closing shop today." He turned to Stiffy. "Alison is closing up, I should say."

Alison narrowed her pale blue eyes at me. "What is it that you'd like to know, Mr. Hampton?"

"Sure you don't want a drink? You look pretty white, Alison."

"I already told you no. Just get to the point."

"Well, it's going to sound corny but do either of you know anyone who might want to harm Victor? Because someone obviously did."

She shook her head. "Victor was very popular. That's why he was running for mayor. He had a big personality and people were attracted to him. Furthermore he was smart. He would have run this city like a well-oiled machine."

Tom nodded thoughtfully. "He would have."

"But?"

"He's dead. No chance now."

"What about the rumors?"

Alison stiffened like a barn board. "That is none of your concern. He was basically separated from Emma. He rarely went home. He therefore had every right to live a life without her reminding him that the money was hers. He didn't need to hear that day in and day out."

"I see. What were you to Victor Blackstone, Alison?"

"His assistant. I was his capable right hand. He relied on me."

Suspects were piling up like cordwood.

Peter caught me on my cell in the car. "Bad news, Hampton. It's the Colombian thing. Jillian has twenty-four hours before her arrest so she'd better turn herself in. I've stalled them but it's all I can do."

"Holy shit! The electronic bracelet?"

"No. They never knew about the bracelet transfer to Maya. My guy was just that good. It was the phony passport. Yes, it was my fault. My guy made a mistake. But it took a while for authorities to know that Julianna Jones was dead. Jillian's photo is on international file, naturally. It twigged."

My heart went thumping. "What about Baby Jack?"

"Better make arrangements. Julia is at headquarters working for Jack so she's out. Besides she's not good with babies. She got Tommy when he was fourteen, almost a grown-up. Maya's too old and Sadie is a bit of a twit I'm told. Think hard and fast and get in touch with Marco. She'll need him tomorrow."

Flashback:

So, who better than a shady corporate lawyer to beat Julia at her game? I mean Marco Midolo? About as crooked as the Upper Levels Highway, and twice as slippery, Marco had this phony baritone voice that he liked to project as though belting Othello to an empty theatre. Boom! A womanizer to the nth degree he had a habit of haunting late night bars with other men's wives, due to his glassy good looks and their stupidity. His claim to fame was a collection of overcoats in every style and shade and Overcoat Marco turned ugly on a dime.

No way did I like this Dr. Zhivago, especially after he sauntered in and drawled, "So, you are the Hamster. I've heard much about you."

Really? To me this meant he'd been reading graffiti left by bitter women in hotel washrooms all over town. But since he dared to call me 'the Hamster' I didn't feel bad in saying, "You too, Overcoat."

He cringed a little. He got it. "Ok. You don't like me. Well, I don't like you either."

I giggled. "Oh, boo hoo! You're breaking my heart." Since I wasn't exactly likeable this was not fresh hot news.

All spruced up, Jack joined us at a good time, while Marco still had teeth. With cheeks shining like a choirboy's he sat forward in his chair to intervene like a Boy Scout leader. "You two are going to make the greatest team. I just know it!"

Overcoat showed his teeth. "Right."

I tried to fart. Where was gas when a guy needed it?

And later in the year it seemed that Marco Midolo and I would need each other, if only temporarily.

The Midolo and Brewster law offices were in the Roberts Building near Georgia and Burrard. I parked my car, dashed through the drizzle of a grey October morning, and strolled into the glass-roofed lobby. I waved hello to the mosaic mural of indigenous people on a hunt and took the elevator to the seventeenth floor. I walked through double glass doors trimmed in gold to a reception area of marble floors, modern furniture, and seascapes by local artists. It was a Marco Midolo office, alright. I knew it the moment I saw a buxom blond receptionist at the desk. I wondered had she bought them herself or had Marco chipped in?

I followed her down a hallway that turned into another hallway and another one after that. Finally we arrived at a big brown office where, after a handshake, Marco pointed to a recliner before taking the chair behind his mahogany desk. A captain's decanter of whisky and two glasses occupied a leather tray on the desktop. He leaned over to pour. "Maybe we'll start to like each other after two or three. What do you think, Charlie?"

I smiled. "Better make mine big."

So, now I was again sitting across from Marco not liking him any better, even after two big belts. At least the guy knew his whisky.

He just sat there shaking his head. "I can't believe she left the country! She wasn't supposed to leave the house, for godssake. What is wrong with that woman?"

I leaned back in my chair. "You should know. You almost married her. What do you think?"

"You're not funny. I'm not seeing a way out of this one, Charlie. Your wife is going to do time."

"Is it automatic or is there a chance for trial?"

He sighed. "I'll push for trial, naturally. But I'm not sure this won't go directly to a tribunal. Unless there is significant new evidence."

"There is. She went to Colombia to rescue a girl."

His glassy eyes bugged out. "Not trees? Was she not there to rescue the tropical Amazon rainforest?"

I had to smile. "Well, you remembered something from the first trial, at least. You could likely rant on for eons about tropical and temperate rainforests."

He screwed up his face. "I don't want to. I don't want to take her case."

"But you will."

He went all limp. "Yes, I will. For two reasons. Number one, Jack. I don't want to disappear."

I smiled. "Nor should you. And reason number two?"

"My wife. Trish would not be happy and I don't need her mad at me. She worked for Jack for years, as you well know, and she's like his evil twin."

Flashback:

Jack thrust his palm in my direction. "Sit down, Hamster. I'll need you for a while." He headed for his office bathroom with fresh laundry over his arm while I waited for Trish the Terrible, Jack's assistant, to usher a shyster in. A word about Trish. Redheaded and bossy, Trish ruled the office with an iron fist. She was meaner than a hyena scaring up breakfast and Jack had been known to hide on her, from time to time, like in the warehouse or under his desk. He joked about Trish being the real boss and that he was merely the owner. The yellow owner.

Shortly after Jack's exit Trish appeared in the doorway, flushed and with a little girl smile on her face. She was quite a looker, actually, with her dark auburn hair, deep green eyes, and freckles tumbling over her nose in no particular order. A looker until she turned nasty, that was. Then she looked like Chewy from Star Wars.

Marco stood up. "I'll tell the authorities I'm bringing Jillian in tomorrow. She won't escape before then will she, Charlie?"

"I'll make sure she doesn't. I may have to tie her to the bedpost but I'll have her at the station first thing. I just have to make arrangements for our kids."

He checked his reflection in the mirrored ball on his desk, grinning at what he saw. No one liked Marco Midolo better than narcissistic Marco. "I'm a dad too so I know."

He knew what? That Jack had put the pressure on/forced him to marry pregnant Trish and he hadn't settled down one bit? Everyone knew it. He was still haunting late-night bars with other men's wives and justifying his behavior because he was also married. He likely even bragged about his kid. Bogus. I patted my gun.

"You don't have to threaten me, Charlie. I know you kill. I even know people you've killed. Or former people, I should say. But if you kill me, your wife will spend several years in jail. Is that what you really want?" He eyeballed me.

I don't scare easily. "We'll see, Marco. But just know this. Jack won't be happy if his daughter goes to jail."

He leaned over his desk at me. "You think I don't know that? I'm shitting my pants. Like, why I ever got involved with Jack Jones in the first place baffles me. He's a criminal. And so are you. While you pretend to be the good guy in his organization everyone in this town knows better. You are his henchman."

I almost laughed. Sure I'd shot a canary and possibly a parrot. And a few human beings in self-defense. But henchman was a leg up. Even Jack would laugh at that. "Stop flattering me, Overcoat. I don't deserve such acclamation."

He pointed to the door. "This meeting is over."

I drained my glass. "Boo hoo. It was way too long for me." With that I strolled through his office doors laughing.

However, the long and winding road was not just a song.

# Chapter Six

JULIA CALLED ME IN A panic from campaign headquarters. "They came for Jack! Why weren't you here?"

"Where was Willy?"

"On a computer in the back office. Where else?"

"Peter didn't warn you?"

"Peter doesn't always know everything."

"Did they arrest him?"

"No. They took him in for questioning."

"Where you able to reach Peter?"

"I called him. He's on his way."

"So am I."

Personally, I was really tired of the Vancouver jail, also the courthouse which shared the same facility. Damn Jack. He was like a homing pigeon, always on his way to prison. Peter met me on the outside steps.

"You know it's about motive, Hampton. And Jack had one. Although he's never been convicted of a serious crime he's been accused of more than one. A dozen, maybe."

I nodded. "Anything we can do?"

"No. They'll need more than suspicion. Hopefully, Jack didn't threaten Victor. That alone could put him back inside. It's a wait and see."

I thought about it. "Jack was just getting set up. I doubt he had time to think about strategy. Not that he'd be above threatening Victor. I was worried about the debates, in fact. If Victor appeared to be winning, Jack might have threatened him. But he wouldn't have killed him. He would have asked me to do that."

Peter laughed.

"Can you make some noise, bud?"

"Yep. I'll go get him. They'll have finished the first round of questioning and will leave him alone to sweat."

I grinned. "Then they don't know Jack."

"Does anybody?"

I sent Shoeshine home while I waited for Jack. In the meantime I called Willy to blast him.

"How come they came for Jack and you didn't even know? Some bodyguard you are."

"I can't do everything. I was in Stephanie's email account. Very interesting."

"And?"

"She's a lesbian."

"What a shame! I had picked her out for you."

"Not my type. However. There's something here that would be interesting to you. Firstly, her mother doesn't know. Her father didn't either."

"Her mother had her picked out for me until I told her I was married."

"Well, bud. Here's where it gets interesting. Her girlfriend, Ashley, went to work for Victor on his campaign. He invited her to his house one night to work on publicity and raped her."

OMG. "Well, that's sad. But certain things are making sense to me now. Stephanie has not seemed that upset about her father's death. She came to work on Jack's campaign two days later. It didn't make sense to me. Yes, she and Julia knew each other from charitable events but her recovery was just too quick for me."

On the drive back to 33 Terrace Place, Jack was grouchy. "You should have been there, Hamster. I should not have had to go alone."

"Why didn't you call for Willy? He was working in your back office."

"He was dog-fucking, you mean. Playing video games."

"You may find this ironic, Jack, but Willy doesn't play video games. Too boring. He was actually working with me in trying to solve Victor's murder. He's made progress too."

"Who is guarding me, then?"

"Shoeshine. And Jackie. Was Jackie not there today?"

"He was. And he ate his way through a box of donuts. And a dozen McDonalds cookies. He wasn't there to work."

"Billy will be there tomorrow."

"Great. He'll likely eat my desk. I don't get it. They're so small. Where do they put all that food?"

For someone who hadn't eaten in a couple of days I didn't want to think about food. Fortunately, Maya was expecting me at the dinner table where I refueled, with her promise of jianbing for breakfast. Thanks Jack. Without you I'd possibly have a dull but manageable life. Sure.

Early the next morning I leapt from bed with myriad things to do, starting with driving my wife to jail, a route I knew all too well. She did too. But she looked stoic for someone about to do time.

"Marco is going to make bail," she said, her lip barely quivering. "He says I'll be out tomorrow morning. Due to breast feeding Baby Jack."

I kept my eyes on the road. "But you're not breast feeding."

I could feel her glare boring holes in the side of my head. "You know that and I know that but Marco doesn't. He's bargaining for me so just keep your mouth shut, ok?"

I nodded. There were times I argued with my defiant wife but this wasn't one of them. So, why did I feel she was all my fault? It was agreed that glassy Marco should meet us on the outer steps and take things from there, since neither wanted or needed me in the picture. Funny that. It irked me when the shoddy lawyer put his arm around my wife's slim waist and steered her away with her long floral skirt swishing on her boots. Pretty daring for a convict, I thought. But she was my convict and I loved her. At the front doors she turned to blow me a kiss and I melted.

At that point I released Baby Jack from his car seat and warned him. "I'm only burping you so don't get any fancy ideas. You're not coming with me." He farted. It stunk. And at that cosmic moment in time I knew that he was never going to go away. Ever. "Nobody wants you," I said, but he just grinned. So, reluctantly I grinned back, knowing that he just might be the one person on the planet to actually like me. "Give it up, Jackie Chan," I said to no one. "You've been replaced." Baby Jack giggled.

A scant half-hour later I entered the office of Tom Blackstone on Marine Drive looking tough. Didn't matter that I had a baby in a snuggie on my chest I might have kidnapped him and was after further victims. Balding Tom shied away from me.

"Don't come in here with a phony baby, Hampton. I know your reputation. You likely have a gun in there."

I pulled back my jacket and patted my holster. "Guess that makes two then. Apparently, I'm a highly dangerous guy."

He didn't smile. Instead he shifted in his itchy tweed jacket, stretching his neck. "What do you want? I'm a busy man."

Baby Jack farted. "Sorry, Tom. I have a bit of gas."

He turned away. "You're not funny. Get to the point then get the fuck out of here."

"I'm on my way but in the meantime I'm wondering something. I'm wondering why, Tom, you don't seem all that upset about your brother's murder. I'm wondering why you aren't jumping all over the investigation and demanding answers."

He shrugged. "I'm upset. And just because I don't go crying to idiots doesn't mean I don't care. I've spoken to the cops and I'll tell you the same thing. Let me know when you find my brother's killer. Then we'll talk."

With that he turned and headed for a small back office where a familiar blond sat behind a desk. Assistant Alison's stiffly sprayed hair hadn't moved one iota in a day.

"What do you think, Baby Jack?" I asked on our way out. "Does she sleep standing up?"

"It's a wig, dummy," he communicated. "She's actually somebody else."

We arrived at campaign headquarters in time for everyone to coo over the baby before Meghan came stomping out of Jack's office. She threw up her hands.

"He's hopeless! We have a press conference this afternoon and he won't prepare. He wants to wing it." She looked awesome wearing a tight red suit and with her brown eyes blazing. Her straight dark hair went swishing down her back. She turned to Willy. "You deal with him because I'm just about done. Permanently." With that she fled.

Jack stood in his office doorway grinning. "Feisty little thing, isn't she?"

I eyeballed him. "She's being paid to help you, Jack. The least you can do is listen. You might even learn something."

Julia backed me up. "You need to listen to her, Jack. Take what you can from what she has to say. She knows how to handle the press and clearly you don't. You'll mess up without her."

He sighed. "Go get her, Willy. Bring her back. I'll try to behave." He poured himself a coffee. "What are you doing here, Hamster? Aren't you supposed to be looking for a killer?"

"I am. But it's hard to do with a farting baby on my chest."

Julia tickled Baby Jack under his chin. "Hopefully his mom will be out tomorrow."

I squinted at her. "And if not?"

"What about Tommy and Christa? They might fill in as the day people since they're both working on their thesis from home."

"We'll see. Baby Jack is not such a good detective. That's all I know."

Looking spiffy in a blue striped pullover and blue jeans, Billy Chan spoke up. "I can help! I can come with you, Amster. I can watch baby in car, can't I?" His eyes were round and brown and hopeful.

I ruffled his tall brush cut. "Ok, Sharky. You can come."

Baby Jack took one look at Billy and started to howl.

"On second thought, I guess not. Sorry, Sharky. Maybe next time." I headed out the door.

Since I'm a known glutton for punishment I returned to Susan Miller's campaign headquarters for no good reason, other than to bug her. I bugged her alright. She came at me clicking her little blue heels and seething. Steam exuded from her nostrils.

"I thought I told you you're not welcome here."

I patted Baby Jack's behind. "I thought you might like to meet my son."

Her mouth went twisting sideways. "Are you crazy? Are you absolutely nuts?"

Behind her the martini dollies were smiling. They didn't like Susan any better than I did. But from out of nowhere two large goons appeared. "Get going, buddy," the heavier-set goon spat. "The lady told you you're not welcome here."

I smiled. "Well, first of all, I'm not you're buddy. And secondly, you wouldn't hit a guy with a baby, would you?"

They would. They shoved me out the door.

# Chapter Seven

ON TO THE NEXT. STEPHANIE Blackstone had not shown up for volunteer work so I gave her mother a call. Absolutely, Emma said. Please come by.

As I expected, butler Hudson was not excited to see me although I figured him to be a guy energized only by a good morning shit. He hobbled in front of me to the parlor, past the pictures of long-nosed ancestors who didn't look any happier than my first time around. I wondered if Baby Jack would one day stick my face on the wall for his grandchildren to ridicule. I wouldn't put it past him.

Blue-haired Emma rose from the straight-backed sofa to greet me. "How wonderful! A baby! There hasn't been one in this house since Stephanie was born. He's beautiful." She patted his head. "He must look like your wife."

I smiled. "Thanks, Mrs. Blackstone."

"Emma."

"Emma."

She led me to a burgundy sofa. "Sit here. It's more comfortable than those awful chairs. Are you able to stay for lunch?"

I wanted to. "Unfortunately, no. Thank you but I have Baby Jack's lunch at home."

She broadly grinned. "How adorable! You call him Baby Jack. After his grandfather, I assume. Crooked Jack and Baby Jack. How cute."

I nodded. "I'm working on Victor's case. Even with a baby I'm on it."

"Where's your wife? Jillian?"

"In jail."

She laughed a rich throaty laugh. "Now why would I not know that? She spends a lot of time there, doesn't she?"

"More than I'd like. However, I take the good with the bad." I switched gears. "Emma, there's a part of my job I don't like and that's when I have to ask difficult questions."

"Ask me anything you like."

"Did you and Victor have a joint will?"

She nodded. "We were married so we are each other's beneficiary. And Stephanie, of course, is left a significant amount if either die. Almost everything, if we die together. Our charities are provided for and Hudson, should he outlive us, is left money too." She eyeballed me. "I didn't kill my husband, Charlie. I have my own wealth left to me by family. I'll never spend what I have so I certainly don't need more. I give generously to charities and will continue to do so with what Victor has left me. Does that answer your question?"

My turn to nod. "Stephanie spent some time with Julia yesterday at campaign headquarters but she didn't show today. Hopefully, she's well?"

A frown broke between her eyebrows. "I hope so too. I don't know because she didn't come home last night."

"Is that unusual?"

"Yes and no. What's unusual is that she didn't text or call. If she's staying elsewhere she always lets me know. Always."

"She has a friend, Ashley, I believe. Do you happen to have her phone number?"

Her navy eyes twinkled. "Her friend, yes. I called her this morning, if fact, but she hasn't heard from Stephanie either. It's worrying."

I put Stephane and Ashley's phone numbers in my cell before leaving the Shaugnessey mansion and Emma worrying.

On the way across town my cell text bell rang. It was Jillian with benign news. Yes, she would spend the night in jail. A bail hearing in the morning would set her free until sentencing before a tribunal since she wasn't much threat to society. Only to herself. I therefore needed to stay with Baby Jack until her release. Peter would look out for her in jail, she said. Get her a private cell and other luxuries. Joke. Heart.

I returned a heart. "Baby Jack," I said, via my rearview mirror, to the fussing boy in the car seat. "Guess you're stuck with your old dad for a while. But lunch is coming soon."

He started to wail.

Good news. Baby Jack typically napped in the afternoon and Maya would nap on the daybed beside his crib. Tony would mind Isabella after he brought her home. So, I grabbed a bag of dim sum from Jackie's favorite Chinatown restaurant and headed for the mouse suite with bribery of dumplings and shrimp. Still, he wasn't happy.

"Where you been, Amster?" As per custom he arranged the various pots of dips and sauces carefully on his plate. "I'm hungry."

"The fridge is full of food, Wildman. And the freezer too. Is it so difficult to make yourself a frozen dinner?"

He smirked at me. "You don't remember? Microwave is broke."

"Right. I'm sorry. I'll have it fixed. In the meantime there is an oven in the stove."

"Sure, Amster. I work, remember. I don't have time for _oven_ cooking."

I picked up his notebook and flipped through several pages. All in Chinese. "Anything important here, Wildman?"

"Wots."

"Such as?"

"Weynolds is still stwealing from banks."

"Did you write down the accounts?"

Sitting at the table he was snacking on a shrimp. "What do you think?"

"These funny things are numbers?"

"What do you think?"

"I think you're an ass."

"Who was my teacher?"

He had me there. I'd created the monster in my own image. An ass. I tore out the pages to take to Willy and slapped him on the head. "Just do your fucking job and don't give me any lip." I exited the mouse suite and all the way down the stairs I could hear him laughing.

Back at campaign headquarters the press had arrived so I ushered Willy into Julia's empty office where I shamelessly glugged whisky from my flask.

"Don't have kids," I told Willy. "They're too much work."

He looked up at me from Julia's chair. "You had them both today?"

"No. Isabella was in school. I just had Baby Jack. But he's like his grandfather and demands all the attention. It's hereditary."

Willy smiled. "There's a lot here, Hampton. Jackie has been working. I'm excited to follow up on some of this. Hopefully that's not your bank account."

"Does it have money? If it does it's not mine."

"I keep mine in a sock so it isn't mine."

Funny.

"It isn't off shore stuff either so it's not Jack and Tony. Wait! There's another one. He's stealing from at least one more. Fuck. I'm willing to bet that at least one of them belongs to Richard." He was typing on his computer fast. "Yup. It's Richard. It's the Charles Richard Hampton account. Stupid bugger never closed that one out.

Flashback:

"You're snoring," someone said.

I gave my head a shake. "I thought you were in California."

Willy smiled that infectious Willy smile. "Na. I didn't have a tooth brush on me. You know how I am about my teeth."

I knew. Whiter teeth came only on tooth paste commercials. "Nice of you to stop by. Is this a last call?"

"It could be. But I thought I'd drop by for a New Year's drink."

"I'll have to ask Robert if he'll share. He's stingy when it comes to his water."

"I'll have a grown-up drink, thank you."

"I only have whisky."

"Do you have any coke?"

I checked my bar fridge. "I have orange juice."

He nodded. "I'll take it. Anything to kill the taste."

So, we sat there, my old buddy and I, feet up on the desk.

"When are you off to California? I assume you found your tooth paste."

"I'm not going to California. It isn't in the cards."

I was suddenly smiling inside. "Why not? I thought you were Richard's man."

"Right. I am Willy's man. No one has ever owned me and no one ever will."

"I know that. But I thought you might want to go off to California. A new adventure and stuff."

"There's nothing new in California. I set it all up for Richard, remember. So, now what would he need me to do? Keep books?" He shook his shiny, shoulder-length hair. "Do I look like an accountant to you?"

"No. You look like a hired killer."

He laughed. "Do you want to hear something funny, Hampton? You're going to knock yourself out laughing when I tell you Richard's new name, since he's in hiding. Richard is now going by Charles Richard Hampton."

We almost fell off our chairs howling.

"Great. So, when will the drug lords be coming after me?"

"Well, they likely won't find you for a while in Colombia."

"That was a strange thing to say."

Willy's brown eyes sparkled with trouble. "Well, Kow Gong is moving into South America. And he thinks that you and I should tag along. What do you think?"

I mulled the matter for exactly one second. Since there was nothing written in stone, or otherwise, in my calendar I said, "I think we should drink a toast to South America."

And we did go to South America but not for the reasons one might think. I anxiously eyed my old friend who was sipping whisky and orange juice across the desk from me, the coward. "So, what happens when Richard finds out? Are the Triad wars on again?"

His brown eyes sparkled. "I don't know how to say this tactfully, Hampton, but I actually hope so. I've never been so bored in all my life."

It was an easy decision for me, letting Willy go free. Yes, he was there out of loyalty to the family but even Kow Gong couldn't ask that much. I'd talk to both Jack and Tony over library cognac that night, I decided, but in the meantime, Willy and I headed for Jack's press conference in the outer room.

"Mr. Jones," a polite female reporter asked. She was young and direct and bland. "Can you please tell us about your platform? What are your plans for West Vancouver?"

He looked at Meghan who nodded. "Well, first of all, call me Jack. Mr. Jones was my dad."

Polite titters.

"Alright Jack."

"I was born and raised in West Vancouver. In British Properties when it was young and so was I. We've both aged a bit I have to say."

Heads nodded. He had aged. Meghan looked pleased.

"But in a good way."

The reporter persevered. "What do you plan to do for the city, Jack?"

"Improve infrastructure. Things are crumbling here. I'll improve roads."

"But the roads are good in West Van. We spend a lot on infrastructure in this city."

He thought about it. "I hit a pothole the other day that almost knocked my teeth out. Is that good roads?"

Another reporter stepped in, this time a cranky male with crooked glasses. "Are you trying to tell the good people of West Vancouver that you drive, Mr. Jones? Are you trying to tell the good people of West Vancouver that you are not chauffeur driven in a vintage Rolls Royce?"

He thought about it. "No."

Meghan nodded.

Willy elbowed me in the ribs. "She's drugged him," he whispered. "He isn't himself."

Next question. "What makes you think you can be a good mayor of this city?"

Jack nodded thoughtfully. "I grew up in this city. I know every street and every crack in the sidewalk. I know the people and they can talk to me. Can Susan Miller say that? No. Definitely not. She moved here in 1999 from somewhere," he eyed the ceiling, "but nobody seems to know where. She's pretty mangled so I think outer space. She's possibly an alien."

Pandemonium. The drug had worn off.

Willy lost his balance he was laughing so hard. "You couldn't script that one, Hampton. No one could."

Jack tried to recover. "But a good alien, I'm told. From Venus. They're not mean there."

Even Meghan laughed at that one.

Finally, Jack shouted above the laughter. "You idiot reporters forgot to ask about Victor Blackstone's murder and the crime in this town. Everywhere you look there's a criminal in West Vancouver just waiting to shoot us. Or rob us blind. My platform, you ask? Well, write this down. Jack Jones, when mayor of this city, is going to crack down on crime."

Willy jabbed me in the ribs. "Where did that fucking come from? I mean, who's he going to arrest? Himself?"

I giggled. "He watches too much television. He's got us confused with Hawaii Five O."

"Well, we do have an ocean and boats."

We killed ourselves laughing.

But the press was on Jack like flies. 'How was he going to do that exactly? Increase law enforcement? How? By increasing taxes? Was he not still a suspect in the Leo Cheng investigation? Did he kill Leo?'

Since the reporters were all shouting over each other, Jack threw up his hands. "Ah,

fuck! I could buy this whole goddamn town if I wanted to, your bosses included, so say goodbye to your jobs." With that he stomped to his office, slamming the door behind him.

Willy couldn't straighten up. "I don't suppose that was a threat."

"I don't suppose you want to tell these idiot reporters that you actually killed Leo."

"Not at this time."

# Chapter Eight

THE FOLLOWING DAY, JACK CLOSED down his Ambleside office. While he didn't plan to withdraw from the race he would work virtually, he told me. He could buy people with email blasts, etcetera, so was going to work with that. The truth? Jack wasn't going to work at all. He had retired from politics in shame.

The evening of his demise, Jack, Tony and I sat in the library of 33 Terrace Place sipping whisky before a roaring fire. But Jack wasn't going to get off easy, not with Tony waiting to rub salt in his wounds.

"Mangled, you said about your opponent. Susan Miller is mangled. West Van has an aging population, remember, and won't be pleased to be called mangled either. You just lost the vote of anyone over fifty." He giggled.

Jack wasn't in a good mood. "Keep it up, Tony, and I'll mangle you."

Tony turned to me. "Can you believe this ingrate? I raised him from a pup and this is what I get. Disrespect."

I jumped in. "I like the part where Jack vowed to crack down on crime. That should be easy for him since his associates are all criminals. He could start at home."

Tony tittered. "I'm not actually a Canadian so can't he can't start with me. I'm just a landed immigrant from Beijing. So is Richard so that lets the drug lords off the hook."

Jack was turning purple. "I don't know why I said it. It was just goofy. I was mad at the idiot reporters for making fun of me. So, now what do I do?"

Tony refilled Jack's whisky from the decanter on the table beside him. "Well, you're lucky, Jackie Jones. You have a detective in your organization and he'll do the work for you. By the time you become mayor he'll have the jail full and you can take all the credit."

"I fired Willy today," I said out of the blue. "I gave him the boot."

Jack's mouth fell open. "I need Willy! He's the only one around me with any brains."

"That's the trouble. He needs to use them and he's not exactly challenged guarding you. And since you're going to work from home now, Shoeshine will suffice."

"You're quitting me too?"

"No. You know I won't. But I have a job to do too. An investigation started by your decision to run for mayor. It's more important than ever given your declaration to crack down on crime."

Tony giggled. "You can't fix stupid."

Jack struggled out of his chair and headed for the bar for a brandy. "I'm not working from here. I'll work from the warehouse were people like me."

I smiled. "That's because you pay them to."

He smacked his lips. "And that's exactly what I'll do to become mayor. I'll buy the fucking votes."

I eyeballed him. "So, you like the inside of the Vancouver Jail, do you Jack? I know you've been there a few times and you'll be going back if you try to buy votes. Guaranteed. It's called electoral fraud."

He plunked back in his chair. "You know what I like about you, Hamster?"

"Nothing?"

"Absolutely nothing. You're too smart for me. But what if I have Hughie and Bob Along buy the votes for me? Then what?"

I choked on my booze. "The authorities will never guess they're working for you and have been for forty years. What are they now? Sixty? No, your best bet is Meghan. Let her proceed with her plans and stay out of the way. Become invisible. She can make a lot of noise on your behalf. Good noise. She can even make you into someone you're not."

Tony liked that. "She can create a new Jack Jones. A good one who donates huge sums of money to the city which you actually do. So use that. And donate more and let her use that. Voters don't have to know where it came from. She can change Crooked Jack into Generous Jack. What about that?"

Jack thought about it. "I suppose I could actually let her do her job."

I walked to Tony's chair and fist pumped. "What is it they say about hell freezing over?"

As I was on my way to collect my wife from jail I heard it on the news. Stephanie Blackstone had been found dead in her car. Cause of death yet to be released but suspicious. After dropping Jillian at home I headed back across the bridges to Shaugnessey and the old mansion. There, Hudson met me at the door with watery eyes. "The Mrs. hasn't stopped crying. She's crying and crying. Her little Stephanie is gone."

I followed behind hobbling Hudson, past the portraits of ancestors who seemed to look even sadder then before, if possible. Emma was sitting on the burgundy sofa, tissue box in hand. "Thank you for coming, Charlie. It's a comfort to me knowing you care. I don't have many friends."

I sat down beside her and took her hand. "Me either. Just one."

"You're lucky. I'm a loner and don't have a good friend. While I donate handsomely to charities I don't attend meetings. Stephanie did that." Tears streamed down her face. "I don't understand. I don't understand why anyone would want to hurt my girl. She was kind and loving."

I dabbed her face with a tissue. "I'll find out who did this, Emma. And who killed Victor too. It's early in the investigation but just know this. I will not rest until I find the monster who did this to your family."

I called Peter from my Beemer to get the facts. I mean, two people from the same family murdered? He knew little at that point in time, just that Stephanie had been found in a parking spot at _The Pacific Centre Mall_ where she didn't get to shop. No packages in her car just a handbag. Ballistics would be on it but basically, she'd been shot in the head.

I then returned a call from Willy who'd stopped by to see Reynolds as a follow up to Jackie's notes. Reynolds had been into the Blackstone books where he discovered gaps and missing money. Then, no big surprise. Since someone was stealing from the Blackstone business, Reynolds saw no reason not to do it too, the little thief. Although Mini had left him a fortune, mostly earned by Reynolds and confiscated by his mother, it was Reynolds' favorite game to steal his own money back. That was BMD, he sadly wrote in his journal. BMD meaning _Before Mini Died_. He wept a lot now.

"Anything on Susan Miller?"

"He's working on it. He was into her bank accounts."

"And?"

"Not enough there to steal. But you know Reynolds. He couldn't leave things alone. He took a second mortgage on her house and got a couple mil."

"Two million? How did he manage that?"

"Easy. He has all her information and can communicate as her."

"Signatures?"

"Forged. He has her signature on several documents so easy-peasy. He just had the contracts scanned and sent them back. He had the money transferred to her bank account and the minute it arrived he stole it."

"The little shit!"

"You've spied on him enough, Hampton. You know him better than anyone. Well, on second thought maybe I know him better than anyone. I can't say I haven't done similar things myself.

"I could use a million or two. Can you get into Reynolds' accounts and get some for me?"

"I could. But there's honor among thieves and I don't need him doing the same to me."

Shortly after hanging up, the call came in from Richard. Shorty Poo had been shot.

Shorty was in surgery when I arrived at _The Lions Gate Hospital_ and Richard was pacing, a tear creeping into his eye. "I don't know why someone would want to hurt Shorty," he said in his pleasant English accent. "Shorty couldn't hurt a fly."

I coughed my lungs out. "You mean he's actually given up on torture and murder?"

"You don't have to be sarcastic, Charlie. Yes, I know you and Shorty have had your differences but he's old now. He's retired."

I snickered. "Well, that makes everything better. So, what do we do now? Clean the slate?"

His falcon-like eyes drilled a hole in my forehead. "Yes, Charlie. That's exactly what we're going to do. We're going to start all over. Wouldn't you agree that the other way isn't much fun?"

Behind him, King _Kong_ Chin was practicing his evil stare, while a new guy, who could be King's twin he was so ugly, tried to intimidate me by twirling his butterfly knife. I patted my gun.

"What do the doctors say?"

"He's lost a chunk of his head. They'll try to patch him up but it won't be easy. I'm not sure what will be left."

"He has a big head, Richard. I'm sure there'll be lots left."

"You're not funny, Charlie. Shorty, King and Freddie raised me in my father's home in Beijing, as you well know. He's like an uncle to me and, if he doesn't recover, there will be an all-out war."

Oh oh. The Triad wars. Even if Shorty recovered they were about to begin. The guy who shot Shorty was a mere messenger. "Any word on the length of surgery?"

"Hours."

"Well, let's go get a coffee. I have a flask of whisky just poured and I'm sure you could use a belt."

King and his evil twin trailed along behind us to the cafeteria where Richard spoke to them in Chinese. They took their coffee to a near-by table and continued to glare. I filled our scantly-filled coffee cups with whisky to the brim. "Why is he doing that, Richard? Glaring. King knows I'm not going to hurt you."

He half-smiled. "Simply put, King knows our history, Charlie, and doesn't trust us to be friends."

"We've come a long way, wouldn't you say? You are now my brother-in-law. An uncle to my kids. You should come and see them some time."

"And bring my outside guards? Because I'm not safe anywhere and you know it. That monstrous little Reynolds has never forgiven me for Bugs Zee."

"You killed his brother, Richard. Your hired assassin blew him away." I saw it all on my spy-suite monitor, I almost said. But that's another story. "And then Mini's black cats kidnapped you and guess who had to rescue you? Willy and I."

He narrowed his sharp hazel eyes. "I thought we were starting over."

"We are. How did it happen?"

"At home. Someone got past the outside guards and shot him through the kitchen window." Back came the single tear. "It was open because he was preparing halibut, my favorite fish, along with an Asian slaw. Shorty is very loyal."

I nodded. "Absolutely. There are no more loyal people on the planet than Shorty, King, and Freddie, before Freddie got poisoned. You must miss Freddie."

"We all do. And if Shorty goes..."

"He won't. Shorty is a tough little bugger." I refilled our cups. "And I think we should drink a toast to Shorty." I raised my cup. "Shorty, you mean little bastard. You and I have a lot of scores to settle so you'd better pull through."

Richard finally smiled. "To Shorty!" He met my coffee cup with his own. "Shorty, you have to recover so you can butcher Charlie for me."

# Chapter Nine

I ARRIVED AT THE WAREHOUSE to a shocking scene. Meghan had seemingly tamed Jack and the two were sitting together at his desk pouring over papers. He didn't even shoot a tumbler of whisky across the desktop at me, the cheapskate.

"Go away, Hamster. You're breaking my train of thought."

I pulled up a chair. "That would be a first. Thinking, that is. Is it hard on your brain?"

He eyed me overtop his skinny glasses. "The last thing I need is a smartass. Go home to your wife and kids. Meghan is teaching me the ABCs of politics."

She showed her white teeth. "He's a good student. He's learned a lot today. We've mostly been on his computer printing things off. Now he has to learn it."

"Are you assigning homework?"

Chauffeur Tony came shuffling through the door. "Gather it up, Jackie. Bring it home. Maya has invited Meghan to dinner and the two of you can study later on. She's invited Willy too so she'll have someone intelligent to talk too. Oops. I forgot Jillian. Jillian, Meghan and Willy can talk world affairs." He winked at me. "You know. Before Willy goes out with his hookers later on."

At the dinner table, Jillian expounded. "Marco says if we're lucky I'll be heard by a tribunal. It's the best we can do. They'll ask the questions and will hopefully listen to my answers."

Meghan's eyes shone. "I can't believe I'm sitting at the same table as Jillian Jones. My god! What's it like to be one of the foremost activists in the world?"

Jillian threw back her long blond curls. "In a word? Painful. I've had a difficult life. You see, I never planned for any of this to happen. One day I was watching Greenpeace saving whales and the next day I was joining a group of vigilantes off to Clayquot Sound to save trees and birds and animals, everything dependent on old growth rainforests. I got tricked into it, I guess. And once hooked I couldn't quit. I did time, in fact, for trying to save the marbled murrelet, a tiny little bird."

Isabella, who was sitting on my knee, spoke up. "Is Mom a looney, Dad?"

Snickers travelled silently around the table.

"Why do you ask?"

"Because I heard it. Teachers at my school whispered it. But I heard them and I know that Mom is not a bird. A looney is a bird, right?"

"Birds are good, Isabella. It's a compliment."

She ground her teeth. "Why do you always lie to me, Dad? I can take the truth."

Grandpa Jack stepped in. "Do you like money Isabella?"

"You know I do."

"A looney is money. All they're saying is that your mother is rich. Nothing wrong with that. What if I were to give you a thousand loonies tonight? Would that compensate for bird-brained teachers jealous of your mom because they can't fly?"

She thought about it. "How come they can't fly?"

"Because they're scared to fly. Do you know why?"

She shook her head.

"Because Grandpa Jack would shoot them out of the sky."

Isabella couldn't stop giggling.

Later, as I tucked my daughter into bed, she asked, "Why does Grandpa Jack tell stories?"

"They're metaphors, actually. Grandpa Jack was just saying that anyone daring to hurt his daughter will pay."

"He protects Mom, doesn't he?"

"He protects us all in his own way."

"Would you shoot birds out of the air for me, Dad?"

"In a heartbeat." I kissed my daughter's forehead goodnight before heading back to the hospital. Richard had some explaining to do.

Naturally, Richard wasn't there. I say naturally because he never stayed out in the open long. In his place were two sturdy jail guards, packing wires, who told me that Shorty had survived the surgery but was still critical. I could find Richard where I usually did, they guessed, so I headed for the beach house where squinty King answered the door with no back-talk, no 'You bad man Cha'lee." I felt sad.

Richard was sitting in his wing chair by the fire and pointed to the matching one. A tray of booze sat on the table between us. "Good to see you, old boy," he said in his pleasant English accent.

I sat down. "Knock it off Richard. You know you're never happy to see me and I'm not that happy to see you so let's not pretend. Ok?"

He almost smiled. "I always like you better after six straight shots." He had exactly six shots of scotch on his side of the tray. My side had five. He was sending me a message.

I knocked back two. "Ok, Richard. What happened to the guy that shot Shorty?"

"You know what happened. He disappeared."

"How?"

"He was caught."

"And tortured?"

"Sort of. There is a way to find out information."

"What did you find out? Was he one of Mini's cats?"

"No, ironically. He belonged to another one of my enemies. You remember Mama Zu, don't you?"

"How could I forget? You mean there's another Zu?"

"Apparently. Apparently another of Mama's sons is climbing the Triad ladder. Her baby."

"Then it's not optional, Richard. You're leaving tonight. What happened to Shorty might well happen to you since they obviously know where you are."

"I'm not fussy about going. Not with Shorty fighting for his life."

"You're going, Richard. We're closing down this place and you're leaving on your private jet with all your merry gunmen tonight."

He downed his third scotch and ploughed his fingers through his slick dark hair. "And where am I going if I'm not being overly curious?"

"To Willy's mansion on the California cliff. Santa Ana. There's nothing there to point to you." I held out my cell. "Trade you. Since you're Charles Richard Hampton you should have his phone."

He narrowed his hawk-like eyes. "I don't mind staying and defending myself. I have guards with serious dogs."

"You also have a father and a son. Do you want to put them in jeopardy? With you gone chances of Jack and Tommy being used as pawns decrease. Not entirely but the focus will be on finding you."

"I don't know why they still want to eliminate me when I've retired."

I knocked back a third whisky. Then a fourth. "Really? Retired, are you? I'd like to believe you but there's a certain internet hacker who has been tracking a shipment due to arrive at Port Vancouver soon and he says it belongs to you."

Richard slammed down his glass. "That fucking Reynolds Woo! I'll kill him one day I swear."

I smiled. "He has control of it by the way and is bringing it ashore."

"How do you know so much?"

"Oh, I have my spies. They tell me things."

"Willy?"

"Well, to be honest, no. But he is a good translator."

I sat back waiting while Richard contemplated his next move. "I can't leave Shorty. He needs me."

"Well, you can't visit him in the hospital so you're no good to him anyway. He has two jail guards at his door so he'll be safe while he mends. And I'll visit him every day on your behalf and keep you posted. Alright? You can text me pictures of your gorgeous face to show him."

He smirked. "He doesn't like you."

"The feeling is mutual but I can change. I can be kinder."

"He'll know you don't mean it."

"Give it up Richard. Willy's mausoleum is waiting on a California cliff with a spectacular ocean view. You've been there so you know about the amenities – the pool, gym, the works. I know you've temporarily lost your cook but you can order in. You still have credit cards in my name, I assume."

He nodded.

"Use them. And no others. Understand?"

"I suppose I have to go to Willy's. But there's something I don't entirely understand, Charlie. How did Willy get so filthy rich? Was it the ancient artifacts tucked into my heroin shipment? The priceless treasures he stole from me and fenced?"

I smiled. "Partly. And he makes a lot of money investing."

"Stealing, you mean. He worked for me for years, remember. He's one of the finest computers-hackers on the planet and is likely still stealing from me."

Hmm. What not to say to Richard. That the someone stealing from him at present wasn't Willy? That another of his former employees – a hacker named Reynolds Woo - was dipping heavily into one of his accounts? And another little detail. When Willy was setting up the California shell companies, to funnel Richard's heroin profits through, he set up a few for himself with Richard's money. He then invested Richard's dough in legitimate enterprises and ditto for himself. Willy Chan now controlled a mini real estate empire of his own.

# Chapter Ten

ASHLEY ROCKWELL LOOKED LIKE SOMEONE I'd seen before, possibly Sharon Stone in _Basic Instinct_ – blue-eyed and with her short blond hair brushed back; she was as cool as a cucumber kept in a very cold fridge. She didn't like me. Not that everyone adored me but some people hid it better than others.

She blocked the doorway of her _Sea Village_ floating home on _False Creek._ It was a two-story, painted pink and as pretty as the woman herself. It came with a roof-top garden. I wanted in to snoop.

She eyed me bitterly. "I've told the cops everything I know. My friend was murdered. I didn't do it. Done." She tried to close the door but I have a quick foot.

"I'm not here to accuse you, Ashley. I'm here because you might know something or someone to help me find your friend's killer. It's as simple as that."

She gave me the squint. "Why is this any of your business?"

"I'm a friend of Stephanie's mother."

"Really? I didn't know Emma Blackstone had friends. She's sort of a hermit."

"I'm also working on Victor's case, of course. And I understand you worked on his campaign. That you did publicity for him. Is there anything you can tell me about Victor that I might not know?"

Her cheeks turned pink. "Victor Blackstone got what he deserved. He was a monster."

With that I let her close the door in my face.

Willy called me in the car. "I don't have a red cross on my forehead, Hampton. I have better things to do. However, Kow Gong will boot me out of the family if I don't look after Jack. This has nothing to do with you."

I smiled. "What have you got, bud? Besides a bad attitude."

"Tom Blackstone. Pathological online gambling. Thus the large chunks of missing money. Alcohol addiction too, I gather. They go together very nicely thus he can sit and drink at home or in the office and entertain himself while covering his losses with a click of the mouse."

"And?"

"He has AA friends on email but he's hit and miss. Goes to a meeting every once in a while. But there's more."

"Such as?"

"Threatening texts from Victor who recently learned of the losses through their accountant. Big time threats because they're equal partners and Victor couldn't shut Tom down. But he could put him in the hospital. He could make sure that Tom never walked again."

"Ouch!"

"And one more thing. The prissy Alison you told me about was doing them both."

"Both Victor and Tom? She didn't look that horny to me. Any reason?"

"I couldn't find one. My guess is that she was hedging her bet. The one that stayed alive would be hers. Or so she thought."

"Is there a partnership contract?"

"Absolutely. The usual. All goes to the survivor."

"The plot thickens. Well, my guess is this. Like Victor, brother Tom is a womanizer. Right?"

"Right. A few women here."

"So, prissy Alison had better be good in bed."

We ended the call laughing.

I served as chauffeur to the first debate in the big Phantom IV. Because Jack was nervous the godfather was babysitting him in the wide back seat.

"I'm smarter than her, right?"

Tony giggled. "At times. Other times you're not as smart as a monkey."

"I don't need criticism. I'll get enough of that at the debate. I need you to tell me how smart I am and how smart I was in school."

"You weren't that smart in high school, Jackie. You played hooky most of the time. It was hard to chauffeur you home because I had to look for you all over town. Now get this. Concentrate on what Meghan has taught you. I heard her say that if you're not prepared to answer the question just answer it with something else. Politicians do it all the time. It works if you keep your answer positive. So, let's practice. Question. What don't you like about the present administration at city hall, Mr. Jones?"

I could almost hear the gears grinding in Jack's head. "Well, I like the garden at city hall. It's very well kept. The azaleas bloom in springtime welcoming taxpayers. It's important not to piss taxpayers off."

Tony clapped. "That's my Jackie! Meghan has taught you well. Cut out the piss if you can, though. The audience will be full of old ladies."

Jack thought that he could maybe cut out swear words but once at the auditorium he looked a little shaky on stage. First off, he and Susan Miller were asked to respond to the question of spending. How would each curb the lavish spending at city hall and reduce the deficit? Susan first.

She drew herself to the full size of a pencil. "That one is easy for me. I'm an accountant and will first personally audit the books. I'll pinpoint the areas where overspending is occurring and drastically cut back. Without cutting jobs, that is. I promise the good citizens of West Vancouver to never cut jobs."

Polite clapping.

Jack's turn. "Ditto for me. I promise the good citizens of West Vancouver to never cut jobs."

Silence.

Sour moderator from _The North Shore News_ went on to ask. "What do you envision in the way of growth for West Vancouver? Jack first."

He searched the ceiling for answers. "I grew up in West Vancouver as most of you know. That big structure looming on the mountainside in British Properties is my home and always has been. My parents paid taxes here. I pay taxes here. And as long as everyone continues to pay their taxes, West Vancouver will thrive. I don't see a lot to fix. I've travelled extensively and have seen everything from abject poverty to the luxury of extreme wealth. I've seen the seven wonders of the world and nothing compares to the lotus land we are fortunate enough to live in. Quite frankly, I don't see the need for change."

Susan was growing white. "To answer your question, moderator. Well, Jack is right in some ways. But not all. There is a deficit to take care of and we need to concentrate on that. Balance the books first is what I say. And I'm the only one who can do that."

Questioning continued with Jack holding his own, mainly because his cheerleader, Meghan, was seated in the front row giving him signs such as thumbs up, thumbs down, thumbs sideways - meaning maybe - I guessed.

And finally, the zinger question. West Vancouver has a relatively low crime rate per capita but statistics vary. Property crime, for instance, is on the rise. Please comment. Susan first.

"This is true. But it isn't our dear West Van residents committing the crimes it's the imports, mostly drug addicts from other parts of the city. They come to break into our cars and homes because of our affluence and the haul is better. They're hard to catch because it's all done so quickly. I doubt that increasing our police force is the answer to this problem. The answer is more money spent on drug rehabilitation in other parts of the city."

Jack's turn. "I agree with Susan, in part. Drug rehabilitation is an important step in crime reduction. But it isn't only or always about drugs in other parts of the city. Sometimes our own West Van kids are out for kicks and get a huge thrill from performing major B and E's. It isn't about the stuff they steal since they have it all at home it's about the huge high they achieve from not getting caught. How do I know this? I've forgotten because it was so long ago but somebody told me this once. I can't remember who."

There wasn't a person in the auditorium that didn't know exactly who the somebody was. Soon closing arguments began, Susan first.

"I somehow think this is all a big game to Mr. Jones since he hasn't actually answered a single question. However, I am a serious candidate concerned about a deficit of several million dollars which I plan to fix when I am mayor. I thank you for your time and I thank you for your vote."

Polite clapping.

Jack's turn. "My worthy opponent is overly worried about the deficit, I think. I mean, how bad is it? A few million dollars? Eighteen, I think, at last count. Well, I can fix that too. Rather than worrying about it I'll just pay it off."

Pandemonium! People had been waiting for it. Crooked Jack had come to save the town.

Sometimes I like to do things the old-fashioned way, like tailing someone in my car. It was an easy start with Susan Miller since she had to leave the debate and I did too. So, as planned, Willy had driven my Beemer to the auditorium to watch the debate and we switched vehicles, leaving him to chauffeur two old reprobates home. Later he told me they argued all the way.

Susan had a heavy foot for a senior so easily cruised down the mountain past Marine drive and to the parking lot by the water. There she waited for a while before venturing out on the short pier, pacing. It was late, the parking lot deserted, and it wasn't raining, an anomaly, so I parked on the street and walked down to hide in the shadows like old-fashioned detectives do. I felt like Mike Hammer. And like Mike Hammer I got hit on the head.

I woke up sometime later with a smoking headache. I was lying on the ground, face down, eating grit. I was still in the parking lot so not everything was bad. Just most. I'd been kicked in the gut and had trouble sitting up. Phooey on old-fashioned detective work, computers worked for me. It was the problem of no recent activity in Susan's bank accounts, according to Reynolds, none at all. No credit card activity either. Hmm. She had to be living on something.

So, now I had to take my willful wife to her tribunal hearing looking a bit rough. I felt worse than a few facial scratches since my balls were in my stomach. It would be hard to smile through the pain.

Marco met us on the courthouse steps. "Looking a bit rough, are we, Charlie? Your pretty face scratched and all."

"There is no _we_ in Charlie and Marco, sailor. So if you don't want your teeth punched down your ugly throat shut up."

Jillian intervened. "He got beat up, Marco. He's cranky. So, just ignore him if you can." She had her librarian costume on again, the one reserved for court -- hair pulled back into a bun, red-rimmed glasses, and a gaudy, ill-fitting suit, forest green and rumpling. I wondered when, if ever, she'd realize that judges weren't moles and actually read the papers and watched TV. Yes, she was trying to play them like a fiddle but they didn't look that musical to me.

Three judges sat at a long table across from us looking pleasant enough in black robes, the female with a little lace collar. Jillian sat stiffly between Marco and me. I took her wet hand in mine and whispered in her ear. "Don't worry. We can likely get conjugal visits."

She kicked me under the table.

The justices weren't exactly three peas in a pod: Judge Wilfred was a large man with an obvious penchant for potatoes and bread, given the size of his gut; Judge Grace had the look of a missionary - mousy, white-faced and worried; Judge Paul wasn't exactly biblical Paul, given his shifty look and the face of a weasel. I wondered which one she'd decide to play to.

Judge Wilfred began. "Ms. Jones. I've read the transcript of your trial at great length and personally I think you got off easily. Yes, I understand your passion for saving the planet but at what cost? You broke the law but still you violated the terms of your probation. You can't save the rain forests or the mining of Catface Mountain or even the marbled murrelet, a bird dependent on old growth forests, by breaking laws."

Jillian's mouth fell open. The guy had read the transcripts.

Ms. Mouse agreed. "You were given every chance, Ms. Jones. Still you chose to break the law. Over and over again."

Judge Weasel agreed. "Is it trite to say we can't help you if you won't help yourself?" He shook his head. "I don't understand. You're a gifted artist. You come from a family known for generous donations to this city. To our hospitals. To our charitable foundations. Your aunt and father are well known for their philanthropic deeds. Yet you choose to blatantly break the law. You're not a child anymore, Ms. Jones. You are the mother of two. Please help us to understand."

She squirmed. "I'll be happy to answer all questions."

Judge Mouse began. "You had several arrests before you finally came to trial. The court overlooked your penchant for protesting but you were put on probation for the Clayquot Sound thing, the rescue of your little bird."

Jillian sighed. "It wasn't just a little bird, your honor. It was a bird dependent on old-growth rainforests, the three-hundred-year old trees being slaughtered by clearcutting. Many other species were also at risk. Someone had to take action."

The judge tried to smile. "Let's give you that. You were given probation. But you violated your probation by becoming involved, I should say leading, a protest against mining on Catface Mountain, on Vancouver Island. Am I correct?"

"Yes, your honor."

"Your sentence from this trial was community service. Highly unusual, I might add, given the severity of probation violation. But you painted a mural at the airport as your penalty, a mural of downtown Vancouver at night from Granville Island. It's absolutely beautiful."

"Thank you."

Judge Mouse leaned back in her chair. "Following further infractions you were tagged with an electronic bracelet, am I right?"

"It's on my ankle."

"But still you somehow managed to remove the bracelet and leave the county on a false passport. You're giving me a headache, Ms. Jones. You're a mother. You must have known your candle had burned out. End of the line, to be colloquial. Jail."

"I'd hoped not. I had hoped to get away with it. You see, this time it wasn't about trees. This time I had a young girl to save."

# Chapter Eleven

HEARING ADJOURNED. WE'D BE BACK Friday morning since Jillian had been granted the privilege of defending herself. In the meantime, I dropped by the hospital to visit Shorty Poo who was still in intensive care. He didn't look so good. No, he looked like a giant Que-tip with his big bandaged head. I never thought I'd say this but I almost felt sorry for the guy.

I rubbed his arm. "How you doing, you ugly little prick?"

He opened his eyes and almost smiled.

"Richard says hello. He's ok. He just had to go out of town for a while. I'll be coming every day to see what you need. Want any porn magazines? Donald the Doorman keeps tucking them into my condo deliveries. I have quite a few to spare."

Shorty grimaced. While he was learning English, porn was a bit of a stretch for him.

I squeezed his arm. "You behave in here, Shorty. Don't go chasing the nurses around and don't shoot any doctors. Ok? I have to go now but I'll be back tomorrow."

He grinned. "You bad man, Cha'lee."

The cop guarding Shorty tossed me a knowing smile. He had a fairly boring job.

I received the call from Peter in the car. Different guns/different ammo. Assault rifles –AR 15s - for Victor, a Colt 38 handgun for his daughter, unregistered, of course. Furthermore, Stephanie might have known her killer because she'd rolled her window down.

Onto the mouse suite where two disgruntled employees begged to go back to Richard. They were tired of Reynolds and they were tired of mice. Besides, with Jack no longer at his Ambleside office they never got a break from each other. They weren't Siamese twins, they whined.

I tried not to laugh. "I'm sorry but Richard had to leave. His place is closed up tight. So, I'll make you a deal. One of you can tag along with me some of the time. You can alternate. Jackie today, Billy tomorrow. But it won't be all the time. Just enough to give you a break from each other. Deal?"

They reluctantly nodded. It was better than nothing.

"So, what's new with Reynolds?" I asked.

Jackie brightened. "He wost the shipment. Can't find it."

"What?"

"Someone took it."

"What?"

"You sound like a pawrot, Amster. It got stole."

"From the warehouse?"

"Didn't get to the warehouse. It went somewhere else. Weynolds doesn't know where. He's twying to find it."

I thought about it. "There aren't many people who could steal a shipment. I only know one."

Jackie's eyes bugged out. "Willy?"

"Your cousin Willy. Do you know anyone else who could steal a heroin shipment without a trace?"

He shook his head. "Willy is a good cwook."

So, on the way to our evening surveillance I gave Willy a call. "Do you happen to know anything about a stolen heroin shipment, bud?"

"No. I don't. And I'll tell you what I told Reynolds. Not that I haven't stolen from Richard because I have. But Reynolds and I have a pact. I don't steal from him, he doesn't steal from me. We made the deal when we were seven or possibly eight. It's iron clad."

"Any idea who did?"

"Not a clue. But Reynolds is on it and I have my own shit to deal with. He'll track down the culprit and it won't be pretty."

Tucked into the passenger seat, Jackie was grinning. "Not the black cats!" he whispered.

Willy hesitated. "Is that Jackie? Are the two of you a team again?"

Jackie's mouth drooped at the corners. "Only every second day. Billy gets to go outside too. Then I have to stay with the mice."

"Well, you can do something about that, can't you, Hampton? No one likes money more than Billy. Billy can be bought."

I looked over at my passenger who was frantically nodding and right then and there I decided to buy Billy off. "Billy does want a trip back to Beijing to visit family. I suppose a return ticket might do."

"Plus expenses," Jackie threw in. "You'll have to pay for his jianbing."

It was agreed that I should spring for all expenses, including accommodation, for Billy's trip to Beijing. I'd put that on Jack's tab too.

Shortly after eleven, Jackie and I pulled up in front of the house on _Haywood Avenue._ It was a rebuild, incongruous among the fine old homes, and too big for the lot. Lights were on, though, so no harm in peeking in a window, one on the east side of the house left open, perhaps for the fresh perfume of rain. Jackie started to complain.

"You didn't say rain, Amster. You didn't say I had to get wet."

"Shush. Go back to the car if you're going to be a sissy."

He wiped the water from his face. "Not sissy. Need an umbrella. You're supposed to provide me. You bweak work laws."

"Shush." I peered in. A typical bedroom, one might think upon first glance: heavy draperies and bedspread, expensive furniture and artwork; books and a bowl of white roses on a bedside table; two robes and two pairs of slippers on an ottoman at the end of the bed. Nothing out of the ordinary except for two dead bodies in the bed. And blood. A lot of blood.

Back in the car I called Peter on his cell. "I have a couple of dead bodies if you're interested."

He groaned. "You woke me up, Hampton. Call downtown. They'll take care of it."

"Well, I can't exactly do that. You see, I don't know they're there. You know because you received an anonymous tip. But you'd be interested in these bodies, I think, given that one is Tom Blackstone."

"Holy shit! And the other?"

"Don't know. A female. It's messy."

"Ok. I'll round up the squad. Go home to your family. And Hampton? Are you ever going to let me rest?"

"Just doing my job, pal. Just doing my job."

Later in the library I shared my night with Jack and Tony over whisky. "Fingers are pointing away from you now, Jack. Not that they ever pointed to you. It was just coincidence that both you and the former deceased were running for mayor. But you wouldn't have had much reason to off Victor's brother, would you?"

His eyes crinkled at the corners. "If I did I wouldn't tell you. But no. I didn't know Tom Blackstone. I barely knew Victor. Not well enough to kill him, anyway. I was actually looking forward to the debates when I could take him down a peg or two. He robbed me of that by getting himself shot."

Tony leaned forward in his chair. "Who do you think did it, Charlie? You must have some idea."

"I have several, actually, but it's too early. I'd only be guessing and I need the facts. But something else surfaced today. The heroin shipment Reynolds stole from Richard was stolen from him."

Jack held out his glass. "Get me a big one, Hamster. I have a feeling I'm going to need it."

I filled his glass to the brim.

"Could you have filled it any fuller?"

"No more room. And you're right to be worried about Richard. I am too. If he gets back into this shit we could lose him. It's suspicious though. He has all the shipping information and no one else does. I'm worried."

"Willy could find that shipment," Tony said proudly. "My nephew can find anything. Anywhere, anytime."

"Willy didn't steal the drugs. He'd never steal from Reynolds and vice versa. They have a pact."

Jack eyed the ceiling. "But he can help Reynolds find the drugs, can't he? So we can prove Richard didn't steal them back. There must be others wanting that precious cargo."

I nodded. "Well, Sugar Zu is our only other option. He's back as you know because his man shot Shorty. Richard's guards tortured the guy for info. He was only a messenger, he said. Sent to tell Richard that the war was on again."

Jack was fidgety. "I'm glad you sent my son away. He'll be safe in California acting as you."

"Not if he puts his fingers back in the coffers. He'll be all too easy to trace. And on that note, two outside guards arrive here tomorrow and two at the warehouse. Twenty-four seven with replacements, of course. If the Triad wars are heating up you and Tommy won't be safe."

The godfather nodded. "You did good, Charlie. A little firepower won't hurt. Plus, I still have influence in the Triad and I'll use it if I have to."

"Send out a message for me, will you Tony? Tell Sugar Zu I want to meet with him. ASAP."

With that I went back to my condo to try and get some sleep.

Early the following morning I arrived at Emma Blackstone's mansion bringing news better left undelivered. No choice. Hudson opened the heavy oak door to peer out disapprovingly.

"You again."

"You got a problem with that, sailor?"

He grunted his way down the hallway, hobbling. Emma was seated on the burgundy sofa, a large silver tray of coffee and pastries in front of her. She didn't get up.

"Thanks for coming, Charlie. I'm bracing myself but the news couldn't be worse than what I've already received. Could it?" She placed a warm croissant and a small pot of strawberry jam on a plate with pink roses and handed it to me, along with a butter knife and napkin.

I smiled. "It smells wonderful. Do you have a cook?"

She nodded. "Jane has been here many years. She started with my parents. While Stephanie thought I should bring in younger people – and give these two the retirement they deserve – neither wants to leave their job. And I can't exactly kick them out. They're like family to me."

The flaky croissant looked like home, like Maya's own and made with love. "It's Tom, Emma," I blurted out. "I'm afraid Tom was murdered last night."

Tears sprang to her eyes. "Not Tom! My god! What's happening to this family? Victor. Stephanie. And now Tom?"

Emma's life was reading like an Agatha Christie novel but with the victims all related. "I'm sorry for your losses, Emma. You've had so many. Were you close to Tom?"

She sat back on the sofa, her navy eyes troubled. "At one time, yes. He was Victor's younger brother. So smart. He had the world by the tail and with so much charisma. When Tom Blackstone walked into a room people clamored around him, hanging on his every word. He was like a magnate. Especially with women."

"Was he ever married?"

"Yes. He had a wife and a son. But she left him when the child was small because he was a cheater. An awful cheater. And he didn't care who knew it. He paraded his whores all over town." She hesitated. "Well, that's not fair. They were mostly young women trying to get ahead by marrying up. He told me once that there wasn't one who didn't want to marry him so he used that to string them along, especially after Helena had gone."

"Where is she now?"

"Back in Sweden, I believe. But no one has heard from her in years."

"Did you know that he was a gambler?"

"I didn't. But Victor may have known. Shortly before he died he told me that large sums of money were leaving the business and that he planned to have an audit. Unfortunately, he never lived to see it through."

"Do you have a copy of your will, Emma? One I might borrow for a while. I assume your lawyer has one on file."

"Yes, of course. I provide a copy for you."

"What about a copy of Victor and Tom's partnership agreement?"

"They used our lawyer so he'll have one on file. You've likely heard of him. He's corporate and criminal. A bit shady but very smart and almost always wins. His name is Marco Midolo."

I choked on my coffee. "Give him a call, will you, Emma? And tell him Charlie Hampton will be in for the wills today."

She stood up. "You're smiling Charlie. Really smiling. You must know Marco."

"You're right, I do. Marco and I have a long and combative relationship but as for now he's acting as my wife's lawyer. Again. And once again we're on the same side."

Emma walked me to the door. "Please give Jillian my best. While I don't know her personally, Stephanie served on a few boards with her aunt. Charities and all. I know your wife means well, Charlie. I've heard her protest rants on the news. She certainly believes in her causes. Fiercely, I'm afraid." She hugged me good-bye.

Shortly after nine a.m. I arrived at Susan Miller's office, Jackie in tow. As per the plan we arrived separately.

"Gentlemen," I said to her thugs. "Nice to see you. In the daylight, that is. Without a tire iron waiting to strike my head."

Big burley guy grunted. "You were told not to come back here, wiseass. Beat it."

Equally-big burley guy reiterated, "Beat it. Scram."

"I just need a minute with Susan. I'm not going to hurt her. Much."

"Roach inspector!" Jackie called. "From the city." He showed his papers.

The Sumo wrestler twins nodded him in.

Jackie headed for Susan's office hollering, "Roach inspector. From the city."

It was hard to keep from smiling he performed so well. Soon Susan came rushing out. "Mr. Hampton! You were told not to come back here. This is my territory and I don't want you here. You are connected to my opponent for municipal mayor and I see no reason to converse with you at all."

"I know his secrets, Susan, and I just might share."

"You're not funny. You're as disrespectful as Jack because he raised you. Everyone knows that. Now if you don't mind I'd like you to leave my office."

"I mind," I managed to say before getting tossed to the street. What was with these people?

Soon, Jackie came sauntering along the sidewalk like a small Sam Spade, elated. "I planted the camera, Amster! And the microphone. I need a raise."

"And you get one. That performance was worthy of a healthy promotion."

"A trip to Beijing wike Billy?"

"Yes. Just don't tell him yet. We need him to work."

His eyes sparkled like a starry night. "I'm not stupid, Amster. I won't tell him til we're on the plane. Then I'll say I stole the ticket. He'll respect me for that."

I smiled. I felt happy for the moment, happy for my family and friends like the Chans and Peter Selic, who'd supplied the phony paperwork for the sting. Peter had a drawer full of fraudulent stuff and had the connections to produce any particular document we needed on a dime. Hopefully, Julia would never dump him.

Jackie helped me lug the awkward computer up the stairs and into my Denman Street office before cabbing it home. En route he planned to stop and smell the Chinatown roses at the flower shop next door while waiting for his takeout. Since he had my credit card I told him to buy some flowers too, to celebrate. The boys deserved flowers, I said without lying. Jackie said to knock off the BS but he was going to buy flowers for the table anyway, and the mice could eat them during the night. He sometimes fed the mice, he confessed. Although not all the time.

I settled in with a tumbler of whisky to watch Susan do her thing. She brushed her thinning orange hair several times, applied red lipstick meant for a younger woman, and poured herself a vodka under her desk. She then set the vodka glass beside the water pitcher and smiled. It was going to be a fantastic day.

Soon Dumber and Dumbest entered the room, looking pleased as pudding, although I never ate a pudding I liked. They proceeded to spill their fat bodies all over the two guest chairs meant for children. The defeated chairs groaned.

Susan sipped her drink. "What do you think about Tom Blackstone? Wasn't that sad? The papers are full of him today. What do you think, Roy?"

I giggled. I mean Roy? Was he her toy Roy?

Roy shrugged. "Didn't know Tom. Sorry for him though. Hell of a way to go."

Buster knew Tom. "I seen him at the PNE. We were lined up for a piss and he said to me, 'You'd think a city like Vancouver would have decent washrooms'. So, I guess you could say I knew him. We were urinal buddies."

Susan smiled politely. "I knew Tom. And Victor. I had dealings with them both. They were ruthless in business and had more than a few enemies. I'm not sure about the woman though. They haven't released her identity yet. Contacting relatives, they say."

"What about this snoopy Hampton guy? Is he getting too close? Do you want us to remove him?"

"No. There's no proof he knows anything. He's cocky so when he learns something we'll know it. That will be the time to deal with things."

I put my hands around my throat. It didn't feel good.

The French perfume hit me even before I saw her standing in the doorway, looking swank in a raincoat pulled back to reveal a mini skirt with legs. A lot of legs. I was a sucker for legs and she knew it.

"Come in, Ashley. No need to be afraid. I only bite on Thursdays and it isn't Thursday yet."

She inched towards the rickety guest chair. "Does it have a cushion?"

I switched my TV off. "Cushion is on it. Can't you see?" I offered her a cigarette from an antique globe-of-the- world that opened at the centre, allowing Pall Malls to pop out. She took one. We both lit up. I waited.

"I like your horse. Does it have a name?"

I sat back in my chair. "Well, I'd like to say his name is Ashley but he doesn't have any balls. You do."

She liked that. "Do you have anything to drink?"

I pulled the whisky bottle from my top desk drawer. "I was just about to say." I poured two healthy tumblers of whisky before proposing a toast. "To Ashley. A Sharon Stone of sorts."

She smiled. "I'm always flattered when told that. She played a lesbian you know."

"I thought she played a bi."

"Well she did. But I don't identify with that. I'm not bisexual."

"Too bad. A lot of guys would wish otherwise."

"You?"

"No, unfortunately. I'm a one-woman man and my wife is more trouble than I can handle."

"Too bad. For you I might have crossed over."

I rose to refill our glasses. "Now I'm flattered. But more than that I'm curious. I'm curious about the purpose of your visit today. Exactly why are you here, Ashley?"

She glued her eyes to my horse. "I'm not sure this is important but I felt there was something you should know. The week before Stephanie died she confronted her father about something he had done. Something horrible."

I waited. "To you?"

"How did you know?"

"I'm a detective. It's my job."

"Victor raped me. And she went to his house to tell him she knew. And that she was going to the police. That the authorities needed to know."

"And she died a few nights later?"

"Yes. After Victor was killed. She was on her way to my house and stopped at the Pacific Centre to pick up a few things. She was shot in her car."

# Chapter Twelve

I CAUTIONED JACKIE ON THE way to the hospital. "Shorty has lost a chunk of his head so he may not know you."

Jackie formed a perfect v between his eyebrows. "Did he know you, Amster?"

"Yes."

"Then he'll know me. I work for Wichard too, you know. Long time."

He did. It's just that Shorty thought him a nuisance. "So, we'll pick up flowers to take upstairs. He's still in intensive care so we can't leave them but can give them to the nurses. Say they're from Shorty. They'll treat him good after that."

Jackie howled. "Nurses won't wike Shorty anyway. Shorty's wude."

"A little rude, I agree. But maybe he'll have amnesia now and will turn into a charmer."

Jackie laughed louder. "Shorty is a unik."

"What? How do you know?"

"Shorty, Fweddie and King were all uniks. Wichard's dad picked them out of a book. Kow Gong told me."

You know that old saying 'you learn something new every day'? Well, you actually do. En route to the hospital I learned more about Genghis Chang, Richard's dad, and his selection of uniks from an agency. It made sense. Uniks would not be distracted from their jobs for any reason, certainly not sex. I'd learned a lot about uniks during my trip to Beijing with Willy, about _The Forbidden City_ where only uniks served the emperor, also the empress who lived in a separate palace of her own. Question: Why would any male want to be castrated? Well, some didn't have a choice back then. Often young boys were sold by poor parents for the little money they were worth. Prisoners, who were castrated as punishment, also served royalty; volunteers too who saw life in the palatial compound superior to starvation.

Shorty was sleeping when we arrived in intensive care, his bandaged head slightly raised. Jackie waved the flowers under his nose. We waited.

"Let's go," I said. "He's likely dead."

Shorty opened his eyes. "You bad man, Cha'lee. Very bad man."

I smiled. "Did you bring the needle, Jackie? Let's put him out of his misery."

"Jackie Chan." Shorty said something to Jackie in Chinese.

Jackie giggled.

I giggled too because it sounded funny. "What did he say?"

Jackie couldn't straighten up. "He said that you look like the north end of a horse going south. That you are a horse's ass." He keeled right over.

With that Shorty started to snore so we left.

Willy was growing tired of being the middleman between Reynolds and me. And I hated to bother him when he was so busy stealing. However, Reynolds was not returning my texts or emails to his private server and I needed a little help.

"I'll do it," he finally hissed over the phone. "If you promise to tell Jack the truth about the canary."

"I will."

"You're such a liar. But rather than bother Reynolds, who is busy conducting business, I'll do it myself and get back to you."

Ironic, isn't it? Willy busy stealing. Reynolds busy stealing. And poor Charlie Hampton, not blessed with those finite skills, had to work for a living. It wasn't fair. When Jackie and I arrived at the Blackstone brothers' business in Dundarave, Alison was also busy. Mascara went dripping down her face as she packed up.

"I didn't kill him," she blipped without saying hello.

"I didn't say you did, Alison. Just thought we might talk. Just thought you may know something helpful to the investigation."

She glared at me through red eyes. "The cops were here. They asked. What makes you think you're smarter than they are?"

"Because I am. It's a well-known fact. If you want to wait a year, fine. But if you didn't murder Tom you may want to clear your name right away. If so, I'm your man."

Stiffly-coiffed Alison sat down behind her desk. "May I ask about your companion? I'd rather speak alone."

"Don't worry about Jackie. He's my illegitimate son from Beijing and can't understand a word of English. Just arrived, you see."

"Then would your illegitimate son mind waiting in the outer office? I'd rather."

I spoke to Jackie in Chinese which was actually a string of nouns I'd learned from Tony, including jianbing. Jackie left the office grinning.

In due time, Alison volunteered an alibi – visiting her mother in Hollyburn and other seniors she regularly chatted up – and about her relationship with both Victor and Tom Blackstone. As I expected she lied. She was nothing more than a devoted employee, she said, and would have killed for them both. My question was, had she killed them both? Jackie and I were soon on our way east.

Jackie raised his feet to the dash. "I'm not coming in. I don't want to be your son anymore. You suck at Chinese. I quit."

"I'm sad. You were such a good boy. You followed all the rules."

"B.S. Amster. You only asked me to do one thing."

"And you were good at it. You know how to leave a room better than anyone I know."

He closed his eyes.

Dumber and Dumbest met me at the door of Susan's headquarters looking tough.

"Well, if it isn't Roy and Buster! Missing me, have you been?"

Roy sneered. "You don't get a message, do you, cowboy? You are not welcome here."

"Really? I don't suppose you know that Susan has been stalking me online, do you? She wants me alright. Bad. She's talking dirty."

They looked vacantly at each other. Nothing.

"Don't tell me you're not jealous. Why else would you clunk me with a tire iron when I was supposed to meet her for a date at the peer?"

Nada.

"Well, give your boss a message from me, will you? Tell her our date for tonight is on. And not to be late."

By the time I reached my Beemer, Jackie had returned.

"The tracking device?"

"On her car. Duck soup. Do you want to learn that in Chinese, Amster?"

We laughed our way across town.

About the stolen heroin shipment. I had Willy on that too. Like Reynolds, Willy had a fractured mind and could work simultaneously on dozens of projects at once. Being single-minded I had a lot of trouble with that. Nevertheless, I arrived to pick up my passengers for the joint funerals of Victor and Stephanie Blackstone. After helping Hudson into the wide backseat of the old Phantom IV I lifted Emma to the passenger side of the car. We didn't speak a word on the way to the funeral home.

I could feel Emma's pain. Although no tears escaped from behind her thick black veil I felt them - hot, angry tears, the depths of despair. I reached over to squeeze her hand and suddenly wanted my own family. I wanted to be with Jillian and Julia, now waiting for us at the funeral home where we'd planned to be seated with Emma and Hudson, our extended family. Two gold urns on the pulpit, with lurching lions embedded here and there, announced the presence of ashes.

It was a short ceremony, due to the Blackstones' non-religious beliefs and nobody actually left alive to speak. However, because of the annoying poking in my ribs by Emma, I eventually ventured forward, Charles Hampton, the sucker.

I cleared my throat. "Those of us who knew Stephanie knew her as a strong woman, a willful, courageous woman unwilling to bend." Translated, this meant she showed up for volunteer work two days after her father's death, which I found callous.

"But there was a fun side to Stephanie too. She liked to kick up her heels." Meaning she took her shoes off in my office and rested her feet on my desk.

"She liked to party with her many friends." Stephanie had one friend, me, whom she'd known for all of ten minutes, drank and smoked with for ten additional minutes, never cracking a smile.

"She was a wonderful daughter to Emma and Victor and a favorite niece to her aunts and uncles." Mostly hanging on the walls, I wanted to add. Ghosts. I mean, had any of them ever been alive?

"In conclusion, I have to say that I didn't know Victor well." Or not at all. "But what I did know of Victor is that he wanted to be mayor of West Vancouver and likely would have been a great mayor had he survived." Translated, this meant that somebody didn't like him.

I stepped down to give my arm to Emma who was finally able to cry. "You did so well, Charlie. You're like the son I never had."

On our way out of the chapel I recognized a few people, notably Susan Miller with her two thugs; Alison the Prissy; Ashley the Lover; etcetera. But most notably was a middle-aged woman, blond-haired and attractive, whispering into a younger man's ear. Helena Blackstone, was my guess, and I wasn't wrong.

# Chapter Thirteen

AT MY _Denman Street_ OFFICE I watered Robert the Plant and, as per custom, straightened _Chestnut Gelding_ , better known as Tang of Shang, on the wall. The guest about to arrive was picky, I heard, and not exactly a nice guy. I extracted a forty of whisky from my top desk drawer and poured two drinks. I drank both before refilling the glasses and waited.

Flashback:

I would have except something more fascinating came into view. Parked at the dining room table an interesting guest was chatting up Maya Chan. I grabbed Jack. "What the fuck?"

He laughed. "I couldn't really leave her there in the dark."

"You could have left a light on."

"I never thought of that. She won't be any trouble, Hamster. Her feet are shackled. She's presentable. I even brushed her hair."

I inched my way over. Once again, I was in the twilight zone, a.k.a. Jack's house. Mama Zu was sipping a glass of wine while Maya was saying, "Is that real velour?" She tossed me a dirty look. "I've always wanted a velour housecoat. But it's obviously not on the budget here."

Tony elbowed me in the ribs. "Put it on your list, Charlie. Just make sure it comes with a rope."

Maya stomped away.

So, Sugar Zu was about to arrive and to blame me for his mama's demise. I could take it, especially since it had nothing to do with me. Well, on second thought, that's not exactly true. I did stow Mama Zu away in Jack's warehouse, not the safest place on the planet. Jack did his best to save her though, so I'll give him credit for that.

Flashback:

Willy's call changed my direction. There'd been a shootout at the warehouse and Mama Zu was dead. Jack had been rushed to Vancouver General in rough shape and I was in major shit.

Tony was waiting inside the front hospital doors, lecture in hand. "You just had to take her to Jack's, didn't you, Charlie? Like the warehouse was the only option. You're going to be the death of me."

"How's he doing?"

"Not bad for a guy in surgery. It will likely be a while before we know unless he dies on the table. I'm really mad at you, Charlie."

I nodded. "I'm mad at myself. But I'll get to the bottom of it."

He narrowed his eyes at me. "You damn well better. Do you know that he got shot trying to protect that old lady? The gunman told him to get out of the way but he wouldn't. Shoeshine watched the whole thing through a crack in the door. He drew his own gun but the gunman escaped before he could shoot."

Sugar was late for our meeting so I felt compelled to belt back two more drinks that were shamelessly calling my name. They tasted like two more. Soon I'd start to sing if I didn't smarten up. Little did I know that a sobering experience was about to assist me with that stupid thought. Through the doorway came not one, not two, but three ugly Asian goons with rifles. Great. They'd likely drink all my booze. Goon number one smacked me on the head with the butt of his weapon and I don't remember much after that. It was dark when I woke up in a place I'd been before, a place of old stuffed sofas and lace doilies, a lace tablecloth too. All that was missing was Mama Zu.

Sugar Zu was sitting in a chair pulled so close to me I felt like a specimen in a jar. He was studying my face while licking his purple lips and when finally he got around to grinning he looked like a two-headed shark. Alright, he only had one head, the other being my concussion. But he did have very sharp teeth.

"Word is you wanted to see me," he spat. "Well, I'm here."

I tried to talk but my teeth hurt.

He waited. "Not a talkative fellow, are you? Well, let me talk for you then. Your brother-in-law will be taken out. I will find him and when I do it won't be pretty. Yes, he's gone from his house but he won't have disappeared from the face of the earth. I will find him and he will pay for killing Mama."

What not to say. That Richard didn't kill Mama, Reynolds did? That it was a classic case of you kill my mama and I'll kill yours right back? But then what? Sugar would still go after Richard and now Reynolds too? The little Chinese shark would love this new dimension to the game. However, I didn't have to worry about giving any answer at all because a couple of angry Zu's goons tossed me to the street.

I woke up late. I hurt and a half-hour shower barely helped the pain. I groaned while checking my texts, most of them having arrived last night. The first from Jillian.

We're worried. You always call at eight to say goodnight to Isabella. Please call.

Please call. Isabella went to bed crying.

Please call. Baby Jack and I are crying now. You better have a damn good reason for this, Hampton.

I managed to text a quick sorry message before the call came it. It was Emma wanting me to join her for lunch. Other guests would be coming to her house as well, she said, namely Helena Blackstone and Jacob, her son. Oh, goodie. Could I hurt more? I politely told Emma that I'd come, along with my own illegitimate son from Beijing, before putting on my best Gucci suit.

Jackie was excited about attending his first formal luncheon so he dressed in a sharp suit too, the one Willy had bought him for his trip to Santa Ana.

"Just remember you don't speak English," I said as we pulled up in front of the old vine-covered mansion. "Not a word."

"No please or sanks?"

"No. Just smile. Look happy. Leave the rest to me."

He nodded. "And when you get us into trouble? Then what?"

"Run."

He grinned.

Hudson was liking me better now. I knew this because the twist on the left side of his mouth went only half-way up his face.

"Is that a smile?" Jackie whispered.

"Shush. It is for him."

Hudson ushered us to the formal dining room where the others waited. I checked my watch. Five minutes early. Was this a race? Following the introductions, Emma resumed her place at the head of the long walnut table and pointed to the left for Jackie and I across from Helena and her son. Done. I looked around. This was a good room, I decided. Gold embossed draperies and matching wallpaper, a huge pot of white flowers on the buffet, and no creepy ancestors on the walls. I might possibly eat.

Small talk. Don't you just hate it? Fortunately the food was plentiful so I didn't have to talk a lot. The problem? Jackie was accustomed to eating dumplings and prawns with his fingers so proceeded to snatch up a chicken breast and nibble away.

Emma thought he was cute. "Was your son hungry in Beijing?"

I nodded. "He was in jail. Not much haute cuisine there."

Jackie kicked me under the table.

Helena chimed in. "What was his crime?"

I looked at Jackie who was beginning to turn color. "Several, actually. Theft. Vandalism. And, of course, murder."

Jackie choked on his chicken.

Helena spoke with a heavy mixed accent. "Murder? And he's out?"

"It's China, Helena. Very lenient young offender laws there."

Jackie's shoulders shook. In China they gave the death penalty for stealing a sucker. Additionally, he was twenty-five years old.

But I was on a roll. "Unfortunately he's lost his ability to speak. You know, forced sex and all. He's pretty little."

Uncomfortable nods all around.

Jackie drilled a hole through the side of my head with his glare, another raise in salary glare.

Following lunch we journeyed to the parlor to drink coffee and cognac, a respectable ceremony after a luncheon with three excellent wines. Since Jackie didn't drink I whispered in his ear, "You're driving home, buddy."

He whispered back. "Aren't you afraid I'll steal the car since I'm such a big cwiminal?"

"He's trying to talk," I said to the others. "He really wants to talk."

During our turn to behave we let blond and buxom Helena tell her long and winding story. Yes, after leaving Tom she went back to Sweden with Jacob and raised him there. But she'd always loved Tom. Tom was the great love of her life and she'd always loved Tom. Etcetera. About twelve more times she told us how very much she'd always loved Tom. Talk about overkill. And guess what? Jacob had always loved his dad too. That took sixteen more sentences.

I yawned.

Emma recognized the sign to let us off the meat hook. She'd used me long enough.

At the car I decided that I wasn't drunk enough to let Jackie kill me on the road so I drove. But he was grouchy.

"I'm not a cwiminal. I feel bad."

"I see. If my memory serves me correctly you were a dentist in China by age seventeen. You pulled teeth during torture without anesthetic. If you're going to feel bad about anything you should likely feel bad about that."

"I had to make a living. You'd pull teeth too if you were hungry."

I shut up.

33 Terrace Place felt like a long time ago. But the feelings came back quickly when my five-year-old daughter came thundering down the stairs and into my arms. There came the wet kisses on my cheek again.

"Dad! Where were you last night? You were supposed to call." Her sky-blue eyes filled with tears.

"Bad guys. Sorry. I got detained. You know I'll phone you whenever possible just sometimes it isn't."

"Mom said. She said you were likely out killing bad guys."

Just then my beautiful wife came floating down the stairs, Baby Jack cradled in her arm. She came forward for a kiss. "Sorry but my appointment book is full. You'll have to come back when I'm not quite so busy."

"That's alright. I might have to go out of town."

I wasn't kidding. According to Willy, Richard had regained control of the shipment. Was he really that stupid? The guy was worth over two billion and was playing around with a meagre forty mil. And in my name too. It wouldn't be long before Zu was on his trail given his own Chinese hackers. Willy would kill me if there was blood all over his house.

Jack was waiting in the living room, drinks poured. "Caught in the squeeze, are you Hamster? With the Triad wars heating up and the Blackstone murders to solve. You should have a twin."

I sat across from him on an animal print chair. "More importantly, Willy's pissed. He didn't know I'd sent Richard and entourage to his house. I just did it on the fly. I wanted him out of here for his own protection, yours and Tommy's too. Yes, I know. You're giving me the look. Sugar Zu knows you're here. But he also knows Tony Chan is here and he'll be tempered by that. Tony's organization could wipe him out in a flash."

"So, what's the solution?"

"We find the shipment and hand it over to Sugar Zu. We buy him off."

"Will he then back off Richard?"

"It's hard to say. Richard didn't kill Mama as you well know."

Jack giggled. "So, what do we do? Hand over Reynolds?"

"It's a thought but Willy would never stand for it. And we don't want to piss off Willy any more than we already have."

Jack's eyes crinkled at the corners. "What's with this _we_ word. I didn't tell Richard to go to Willy's Santa Ana mansion, you did. I'd have sent him back to Beijing."

"To a hotel? Because a hotel is all that's left for Richard in Beijing. No. Had he not fucked with the heroin shipment he'd be perfectly safe given his outside guards. Now he's thrown a wrench into the plan."

Jack sat back in his chair. "I could go to Santa Ana. I'm good with a gun."

"Sure you are. A water pistol maybe. Just sit tight until I figure things out. Ok? No funny stuff."

He nodded but he didn't mean it. He was going to get involved.

# Chapter Fourteen

WE WAITED IN MY BEEMER at the back door of Susan's campaign headquarters on _Marine Drive._ "She's meeting someone at eleven so we'll just tag along," I told Jackie.

He was playing games on his cell. "How do you know?"

"Texts. I'm spying on her remember."

"Who is she meeting?"

"Doesn't matter. You put the tracker on her car, didn't you?"

"I need a raise."

"I already gave you one."

"I need another one. You didn't say I had to work nights."

"We'll settle up when this is over."

"You always say that, Amster, but it's never over. You just start up again and jip me."

With an umbrella protecting her nice orange hair, Susan Miller exited the building via the back door and headed for her car. We tailed her through town, across the bridge, and exited behind her on _Stanley Park Drive_. Just past _The Teahouse_ she pulled to the side of the road and waited. I pulled up fifty yards ahead, or so, and walked back in the rain, my leather hoodie barely shielding my face. Soon, a second car pulled in behind Susan's and the driver emerged. A fat envelope changed hands and shortly after both cars pulled away. I walked back to find Jackie dead asleep.

After reaching the Chinatown spying apartment I half-carried, half-dragged my partner up the stairs to the third floor. There I stood him in a corner and waited for the news Billy had promised over the phone.

"Wichard is gone, Amster. He's gone from Willy's house."

"How do you know?"

"Weynolds. Weynolds finally found him. He wanted Wichard for the dwugs. I heard him tell Wugs."

"What did Lugs Nut say?"

"Wugs told Weynolds to give it up. That he has enough money. He said that Mini left him millions more than he'll ever spend so why keep stealing."

"That's funny. Mini left Reynolds his own money, the money he'd earned and she confiscated. But what did Reynolds say about giving it all up?"

"He cwied. He said that if he didn't steal he wouldn't have anything to do."

The call from Willy at midnight wasn't unusual, given that he was like a bat and operated best at night, sometimes hanging upside down. Kidding. But there was news. Since Tom Blackstone had never remarried he hadn't changed his original will and left everything to Helena and their son, Jacob. Equally. But what was everything? With large chunks of missing money from the business, exactly what was left?

"Life insurance?"

"A couple million. Plus the business partner insurance Tom would have inherited from Victor. She'll clean out the remaining cash in the business too so won't be poor. I'd say close to eight altogether."

"I figured. I guess it's time to pay poor grieving Helena a call."

"You must be getting whiplash from going back and forth between suspects."

"Better than nothing. One more thing, bud. When Reynolds was last in Susan Miller's bank account was anything missing? Like a large sum of money?"

"No. Susan is running on empty. If she doesn't get the mayor's job she'll be broke."

So why not? Why not let myself into Susan's campaign headquarters after midnight and snoop? The back-door lock wasn't all that sophisticated and since she hadn't set the alarm, done. Inside, the back-up lighting showed the way to the computer in her office. What had she said during her debate with Jack? That she was an accountant and could manage the city books herself? Password. Where was Willy with her password? He was getting too old now and not nearly as quick as he used to be. I waited. Alright. He simply got it from Reynolds. I was in.

Very neat and tidy, as one might expect from Susan Miller, Ms. OCD - not icons strewn everywhere like Charles Hampton, PI. Rows. _Campaign PR Program_ – public appearances, press releases, debates etcetera. _Campaign Volunteers_ – women of substance with nothing better to do. _Campaign Finances_ – money in, money out – nothing odd about that. Definitely not a big account, Susan's campaign fund had a balance of almost thirty-three thousand. Who could quibble about that? It was just the _Miscellaneous_ file that had me curious. One-hundred and seventy-nine thousand dollars for various reasons. Money in: Loan from Dad. Loan from Mom and Dad. Loan from cousin Harry. (I wanted to meet this cousin Harry to see if he had any money for me.) Money out: Partial payment on loan from Dad. Partial payment of loan from Mom and Dad. Payment to Cousin Harry. Hmm. It smelled like electoral fraud to me. Theft of campaign contributions? I forwarded the file to myself, also Peter, just before receiving a whack on the head.

I was growing tired of getting beaten up, especially when waking up in a closet. I wasn't scared of much but small spaces left me short of breath and with a thumping heart. It was quiet outside so I took my chances, an unwise decision since after kicking down the door I got beaten up again. Next time new closet, darker and smaller. Thanks Jack for the sterling silver toothpick he'd given me for passing grade four, also the lessons on picking locks. Not that I didn't want to fight Roy and Buster, I just didn't see the point. I sneaked past them while they slept on the floor.

Shorty was turning into a comedian. He was on the mend now and wanted to flex his sixty-year old muscles in his new private room. His bandaged head was raised to half-way. "You bad man Cha'lee. You look like cow pie."

Jackie cocked his head. "Cows can't make pies."

"It means I look like shit."

Jackie gave Shorty the fist pump, gently, so as not to knock out his myriad tubes. The two then began to rudely speak Chinese.

"Toutong!" I shouted, one of the few words Tony taught me at age ten, after I lost my first neighborhood fight. It meant 'sore head'. Appropriate, since I felt like I'd been through a meat grinder. "Ask Shorty who taught him about cow pies."

Jackie smiled. "Shorty says the cop guarding him did. The cop says you think you're tough but you couldn't fight your way out of a cotton ball. The cop says you get beat up more than a practice boxer."

I didn't argue although I suspected that the white cop outside his door had never spoken a single word to Shorty, especially in Chinese. Score one for Jackie.

On to _The Pan Pacific Hotel,_ Jillian's favorite, since she'd had every one of her wedding receptions there, including ours. I'd been invited to lunch at the Royal Suite on the twenty-third floor and was looking spiffy, to brag a bit. Jackie was wearing a pink shirt and striped silk tie while I wore my second-best Gucci jacket and jeans.

"Am I still your illegal son?" he asked on the elevator up.

"Don't say a word. Just smile pretty."

He showed me his teeth. "I may have a surprise for you."

"No surprises, Wildman. My heart can't take it."

Helena met us at the door. "Jacob can't be with us today, unfortunately. He has business to attend to. You know. Out and about." She led us into her luxury suite offering a panorama of the _North Shore_ across _Burrard Sound_. So, what was Jacob out and about doing, exactly? I was especially curious since Jacob wasn't Jacob at all. No, according to the Helsinki paper archives, Jacob Blackstone had died in an automobile accident when he was just seven years old. Jacob who?

A fine spread of finger food lay on the large square ottoman. "I thought your son might like something to eat with his fingers," Helena said. "I have plenty of napkins."

"Perfect. Jacque prefers small pieces. Something he could reach through the bars."

Jacque rolled his eyes.

Small talk came dribbling from both parties. "Are you staying long, Helena?"

"No. Just long enough to tidy up details. You know, Tom's will and all. Jacob and I are the beneficiaries. Equally."

"I see. Was there a clause that should one of you pass before Tom the other would receive all at the time of his death?"

"No, unfortunately. If either Jacob or I passed before Tom, our share would go to charity. It doesn't seem fair but that was Tom. I'm surprised he didn't leave money to his whores but I suppose the bookkeeping would have been overwhelming."

Having devoured almost everything on the table, Jackie's eyes went darting around.

"Is there candy?" I asked. "Jacque loves candy. You, know. He didn't get any behind bars."

Helena shifted in her chair. "I'm afraid not. But there's cookies. Oops! I guess they're all gone. Sorry Jacque."

Jackie ground his teeth. "Don't be sorry. You ate them. I saw you."

Helena's mouth fell open. "He can talk! Your boy can talk!"

I jumped up. "It's a miracle! Or maybe an omen. I have to rush him right to the priest. It might be a demon."

Talk about sulking. Jackie's dog-lips dragged on the floor-mat all the way home. "You used me, Amster. And you weren't even funny."

Well, that was a matter of opinion. I thought I was hilarious. "I'll make it up to you, Wildman. Triple the Chinese food tonight."

"I don't want food. I just want money. I want enough money so I don't ever have to work for you again."

"I see. How much would that be?"

He thought about it. "Trillions."

"Ok. Can you narrow that down? One trillion I can maybe manage but no more. Deal?"

He giggled. "You're an ass, Amster. Shorty is right. You are a horse's ass."

After dropping Jackie at the mouse suite I headed for _the Properties_ with an uneasy feeling in my gut. Something was amiss. It was Richard. Richard was like a polar bear stalking the stalker. I could even feel him breathing down my neck. With good reason, as I was soon to learn.

My first clue? Jack and Tony were plying me with liquor in the library late at night. "You're too uptight, Hamster." Jack held out his glass. "Pour us both four fingers, Tony. This boy is way too serious about life. He never takes time to smell the roses."

So, I wasn't Ferdinand the Bull, I was actually human with blood that I wanted to keep in my veins. Most of it anyway. I confronted Jack. "Spill. I haven't got all night."

"Not my fault. Ask Tony. He's the culprit here."

Drink in hand, Tony joined us in front of the fire. "Well, I couldn't let Richard run around loose, could I? Especially after he was stupid enough to go after repossessing his drugs. You know that was stupid, don't you, Charlie?"

I nodded. I waited.

"So, I got him out of Santa Ana before Sugar Zu arrived. And Reynolds, by the way, wouldn't have been far behind."

"How did Reynolds find him?"

"He has all his passwords. He has all yours too, by the way, and he was suspicious when he found you in Santa Ana. You know. Since he knew you were here."

"And Sugar Zu?"

"How should I know? I'm not psychic. I can only assume he was after the shipment too. I don't know how to tell you this, Charlie, but Asians are proficient hackers. I know I never take any computer device to the bathroom."

"And? You have more to tell me."

He refilled my glass. "Well, apparently, Jack Jones is planning a big expansion and has bought the house next door. Judge Clark's house. You know, for when he becomes mayor. This small shack won't do for the new mayor. Not even close. He'll join his two homes with a sky walk. Won't that be sensational, Charlie?"

"What the fuck?"

"Well, the house was up for sale and Jack is fussy about his neighbors so he bought it for himself."

"What are you saying? That Richard is there?"

"It's secluded. Tall hedges and trees. Muzzles on the dogs. Very quiet. They arrived late last night."

I jumped up. "I don't believe you! You're fucking nuts. Richard next door?"

Jack licked his lips. "He is my son."

They deserved each other. And the fact that I'd been kept in the dark like a mushroom didn't help matters. Enough with the secrecy, already. I was done. Done with Jack. Done with Tony. Even taking a break from my wife who'd always chosen her dad over me anyway. Well, maybe not always but some of the time. _Taking a break_ I texted. _Bad blood right now. See you in court on Friday._

First thing the next morning Peter called. "I hear you had a good old fashioned donnybrook in the library. Any dead bodies?"

"You're not funny. I'm just tired of the shit."

"I get it. Jack doesn't always do things conventionally. So, you don't like his new neighbors?"

"I could do without them."

"You should probably talk to Jillian. She doesn't need to be caught between you know. Jack isn't her fault."

"Thanks, Julia. She asked you to call me, didn't she?"

He giggled. "Yes. But that's not why I called. We're executing a search warrant for Susan Miller's office today. Computers, the works. I thought you might want to be accidently there since you did the groundwork. Ten a.m."

Ten o'clock rolled around and guess what? No computers. Not that I could make the event, due to a previous commitment, but according to Susan's technician there'd been a cyberattack during the night so all computers had been sent out to have their hard drives stripped. You know, sensitive information. No one was getting their grubby paws on Susan's future speeches as lame as they might be.

Plan B. Reynolds would have copied Susan's hard drive since that's what Jack was paying him for. Any good spy makes copies. Additionally, Peter had the file I sent to him in the night and, of course, I did too. Sorry, Susan. You were just a little too late.

# Chapter Fifteen

STIFF-HAIRED ALISON WAS NOT happy about me tracking her down at her residence although she did answer the door so couldn't blame me for banging.

I held the palm of my hand to her face. "Hey! No profanity, please. I take offense easily."

"Get the fuck off my doorstep."

"Correct me if I'm wrong but I have a feeling you're going to need me."

She froze into an icicle. "You are a rude obnoxious man. I will never need you. Not under any circumstance."

I screwed up my gorgeous face. "Let's put it this way, Alison. You have an alibi. It isn't wonderful and I can make it even less credible. Maybe I was tailing you on the night in question. What about that?"

She showed her bottom teeth like a Shih Tzu. "I don't believe you were."

"Well, believe this. You dined with a friend in the village. Chez Michel, I believe. No, I'm sure of it. You dined with a friend at Chez Michel. How am I doing so far?"

Nothing.

"So, following dinner, at approximately ten p.m., you drove to Tom's house on Haywood Avenue. You knew there were other women but he lied to you and you wanted to catch him red-handed. And you did. You peered into his bedroom window and was furious to find him making love to another woman. You drove away but returned a while later, retrieving the Gloc G45 from your glovebox, and entered Tom's house through the front door. Quietly, since you had a key."

She backed away. "You can't prove any of this. It's just your wild imagination."

"Well, maybe it is. And maybe it isn't. Cameras can be helpful – dash cams, home security cameras etc. You left a trail, honey. Wanna talk? After you've seen a good lawyer, of course."

She slammed the door in my face.

So, maybe I wasn't parked outside Tom's house when Alison returned. I'd left to collect Jackie but I had talked to the gun shop owner earlier in the hunt, when Tom was still alive. You see, I check out a lot of guns in the registry since it happens to be my job. And the coolest part? 'Pretend Jacob' had missed our hotel luncheon because he was out buying a gun too. Meaning? Now I had myriad foolish people running around with guns.

My next call of the day wasn't going to be a favorite, I thought. I never liked Judge Clark – possibly because he tried to have me killed more than once – and I wasn't that fond of Jack's new neighbor either. King Chin met me at the door looking quietly glum while motioning me down the hallway past two study guards. I said hello in Chinese and they both grunted. Neih hou, I said again and they shrugged me off.

Richard was standing in the sunroom overlooking the city and ocean below and he smiled. "I'm not going to tell you what you said but just know it wasn't very nice." He came forward to shake my hand.

"Richard." I returned his smile, since I couldn't refuse the gorgeous bastard. He made me sick, in fact, looking as polished as an Asian Cary Grant in a red cashmere pullover and jeans. It wasn't fair.

He motioned to a wing chair in front of the fire and took the matching one. King shuffled over with our drinks from the bar, whisky for me, scotch for Richard. He raised his glass. "What should we drink to, old boy? Good health?"

"I wish. However, because you choose to live dangerously, I'm a bit short on the good health thing. I'm trying to figure you out, Richard, but I can't. I had you safely stowed away yet you chose to come out in the open for a mere shipment of drugs. It makes no sense to me."

He narrowed his falcon-like eyes. "Me either. And quite frankly, I'm surprised you'd believe such nonsense when none of it is true. I did not steal the heroin from Reynolds. And anyone believing I did is quite frankly simple."

"There's evidence."

"Apparently. Apparently there's proof that someone acting as me took possession of that particular shipment. But it wasn't me. I'm not that stupid, Charlie. I'm relatively wealthy, as you well know, and a mere forty or fifty million dollars is peanuts to me. I didn't send the damn shipment. Nor did I steal it back from Reynolds after he gained control. Someone was playing a game but it wasn't me."

He sounded half-convincing as he rose from his chair. "You're the detective, Charlie. Figure it out."

I called Willy from my Beemer. "Richard says he didn't send the shipment to Vancouver. Nor did he steal it from Reynolds after Reynolds gained control. What do you know about this, bud?"

"Not much. The bill of lading listed Richard's company, Chard Enterprises, as the sender of the double-barreled oil drums. I'm not sure who else knows that name. Reynolds does, of course, having worked for Richard, but I can't be sure about the others around Richard. We can rule out King, for certain."

"I agree. But we don't know much about that new guy, King II. I smell Sugar Zu all over this one, especially since he put out the hit on Shorty. I'll find the connection. Find what you can online for me, bud, and I'll owe you."

"You need to see Jillian. You can't punish her for Jack. He's not her fault."

"We're texting. She's alright with my being away. Isabella too. She thinks I'm out shooting bad guys."

"Are you?"

"There's a very good chance I will be. Given a day or two."

Cotton-ball Shorty was sleeping when I arrived at the hospital so I talked to him in his sleep.

"Richard sends his regards. He's sorry he can't come see you but he told me to pinch your toe." I did and Shorty let out a yelp. "Sorry. That wasn't from me it was from Richard."

"You bad man, Cha'lee! You pinch hard. Now I can't walk."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Were you walking, Shorty? I could have sworn you've been is this bed a while. But maybe in your dreams you were walking."

"In my dreams I had a gun. And next time I'll shoot you."

"That was real life, Shorty. You did have a gun to my head before I tricked you. You did try to shoot me."

"Next time I'll shoot your fucking head off." With that he dozed off again.

Now do you see why I visit acquaintances in the hospital? It cheers them up.

Maybe I was becoming forgetful but I could have sworn that Hudson had initially favored his left foot and was now favoring his right. Or was it old age and the need to give each foot a rest? I hoped to live long enough to test the theory myself. Charming Emma was seated on the burgundy parlor sofa, drinks already poured.

She pushed back her medium-length blue hair. "So nice of you to come, Charlie. It's lonely with Stephanie gone. I can still hear her music though. She liked Pink Floyd. Wish You Were Here being her favorite and I keep saying the same. Wish you were here, my Stephanie, although I called her Stephie. She'd been my Stephie since she was a little girl." Her eyes brimmed with tears. "Do you know that old saying 'I cried my eyes out'? Well, let me just say it isn't possible to do. You can cry and cry and cry but your eyes will still be there."

I didn't say anything because I hadn't earned the right. Yes, I'd lost my parents when I was ten years old but it was a distant memory to me now. Jack had seen to that.

"What about going out to dinner tonight, Emma. You look like you could use a bite and I could too."

"Oh! I couldn't leave Hudson. Restaurant food doesn't agree with him. We'll have a bite together in the kitchen. You're welcome to stay if a fried egg sandwich works for you. That's what I'm having but Hudson will only have a bowl of soup."

It sounded fantastic, so much so that one of the great-grandmothers on the wall screwed up her face. Then she shook her head. "Thanks, Emma. Another time. I've got some research to do so I might as well get at it."

Was it too early to tell her that while Victor's murder was a professional job, Stephanie likely knew her killer? I thought it was.

And remember what I said about getting confused over people and places? Well, as I was driving away I could have sworn I saw, in my rearview mirror, Susan Miller's car pull into the Blackstone driveway. I gave my head a shake.

At my Denman Street office I gave Robert the Plant his weekly dose of vitamins, namely a mickey of crème de menthe to keep him green. He burped. Following this act of kindness I gave Tang of Shang the finger because I was feeling cranky and downright mean. Tang farted back at me, I swear he did.

As for dead bodies I had a few on my mind. What about Victor? Research told me that while Victor had a string of women in his bed none seemed to be confused about the arrangement since most were in another relationship themselves. Hmm. It seemed that in the inner circles of ole West Van, hanky-panky was the norm. Even scary Alison fit the mold since while she was appeasing Victor, she was stroking Tom too.

Then there was Stephanie, in a relationship with her girlfriend and happy, from all accounts. Yes, she'd confronted her father about raping Ashley shortly before she died but Victor didn't kill her. Why? Because Victor was already dead.

Now we have Tom, serious by nature, but philandering by testosterone. And it wasn't uncommon for women who left Tom to go on to Victor, maybe for comparison but possibly just for fun. To my way of thinking, Victor and Tom Blackstone had been working their way up the mountainside, alphabetically, because none of their lovers had yet to live above I.

"You're talking to yourself, Charlie. But it's Inglewood in case you forgot. Inglewood Avenue. You grew up in West Van. You used to know all the street names by heart. It's how you learned your ABCs." Tony giggled.

"I knew my ABCs long before I came to live with a family of lunatics, thanks, Tony. There's a full moon tonight. Why aren't you out there howling?"

"It's cloudy, Charlie. And raining hard. Even we lunatics get a day off once in a while."

I waited. First there would be the buttering up followed by a message from Jack. I swallowed twice.

He sat down in my nice client chair, getting it all wet. "Richard did not send that shipment. Nor did he try to steal it. You can't be mad at Jack for getting him out of a dangerous situation when we knew Richard's cover had been blown."

"I'm not mad at Jack."

"You could have fooled me. We haven't seen or heard from you in a couple of days."

"It's been longer other times."

"You weren't a father then. What about Isabella? And Baby Jack? Don't you think they need you?"

"Truthfully? They're not that interested in me, Tony. Baby Jack screams at me unless I shove a bottle in his mouth. Then he goes to sleep. Isabella thinks I'm nothing more than a cold-blooded killer because her mother tells her so. She only wants to know how many bad guys I've killed so she can go to school and brag at show and tell."

Tony stood up. "What you don't know about kids is a lot. That little girl worships you. She's not ok with your not coming home and never will be. So, maybe it's time you grew up. Maybe Jack didn't do the right thing by keeping things from you. But for once maybe you could be the bigger man. He's hurting too, by the way. A lot."

So, after totally beating me up the godfather dragged his tired old feet out the door. It was late and I had a court date the following morning, otherwise I might have followed him down the stairs. Yes, I wanted to go home but my condo was also home, due to my fractured life. I therefore dragged my feet past Donald the Doorman who didn't say a word, not even the suggestion of a porno magazine to spare. Why? Because he was sleeping sitting down.

Sometime in the night I had that strange reoccurring dream, the one where I'm floating away in a hot air balloon and there's no going back, no operator aboard. I'm all alone. I try to call out to my friends and family below but they can't hear me. Willy is frantically waving, encouraging me to jump, but that option disappeared about twenty feet off the ground. Isabella is waving goodbye and Jillian is making Baby Jack wave too by moving his arm back and forth. It's a pretty sad affair.

I awoke to a soft body in my bed. "If Moses won't come to the mountain, well. That just sucks."

I turned to kiss my beautiful wife hello. "What are you doing? We're in court tomorrow morning."

"That's why I'm here. I couldn't sleep. I thought maybe you could calm me down."

I could think of several ways to do that. "At your service, mam. What about our children?"

"Well, that's the first surprise. One of them is in your guest room sleeping. And as for Baby Jack, well, he's big enough to fend for himself. He ate a horse this morning."

"And?"

"Julia and Peter. I had to fire the nanny. She slept most of the time so I didn't see the need. I packed clothes for Isabella for school tomorrow and for myself as well."

"What about our daughter's lunch?"

"Funny you should start to worry now but I put her snacks in her backpack. She's only half-days so Tony will pick her up at noon. But thanks for caring, Hampton. It's so grown up of you."

Opportunity knocked. "What do you think about you and the kids moving in with me here? I could be a better dad."

"I think that's the worst crap I've ever heard. The reason we work together, and the only reason we work, is separate dwellings. You need to do what you have to do and I do too. End of story. I wouldn't last a day sitting here with our children while you were out solving crimes. Our kids have a big family around them at 33 Terrace Place and security is what they need. We've made it this far, Hampton, and I have a sneaking feeling we'll make it all the way. Why? Boundaries. It's about mutual respect." She was babbling now. "Yes, I've sat by your hospital bed praying for your recovery after you've been shot up and I'm not even religious. And yes, you'll be by my side tomorrow when I have my story to tell. You'll always take my side and I'll take yours." With that she fell asleep in my arms.

I awoke to a poke in the face. "Dad. Will you please come and check the closets? Mom said bad guys with guns might be in there."

I rubbed my eyes. "And you believed her?"

"No. But I just want to be sure."

"Should I get my gun?"

Isabella giggled. "No. If they were in there they likely would have shot you by now."

"But what if there are new ones every day? As soon as I kill a couple two more take their place."

"You're just being silly, Dad." She stood there with her blue eyes blazing and with her little hands on her hips. "Can you at least make toast?"

She was so much like her mother. And toast I could do.

Back came the baggy green suit and red plastic glasses so after dropping Isabella at school, Jillian and I headed for the courthouse. She was nervous. "I've never even told you my story. That's going to be the hardest part. Thankfully, you never asked so I had an out but now you're going to know what really happened to me."

I loved my librarian to pieces. "I'll only love you more. Nothing you can say or do will change the way I feel. You know that, don't you?"

She nodded. "It all seems like a bad dream to me now and so long ago. I thought I'd put it to rest and now it's all coming back. Now I have to relive my horror."

I squeezed her arm. "Would you rather I wasn't in the room? I can wait outside you know."

A tear trickled down her cheek. "I need you there. And I'm sorry for the tears but better to get them out of the way now."

We walked arm and arm into the courthouse.

As expected, sleazy Marco Midolo was there to greet us and he rubbed Jillian's shoulder. "Are you ok? You look a little shaken."

I don't know why the guy irked me he just did. "Speaking of shaken if you touch my wife one more time I'll shake your fucking teeth out."

"Yeah, right, Charlie. Solve everything with violence since you haven't got a brain."

"Oh yeah? Well, just know that the few brains you have are going to be splattered all over the floor if you keep pawing my wife."

He removed his hand from her shoulder. Inside the meeting room we took our places at the table and waited. Jillian drank a lot of water. Before long, Judge Wilfred led the other two justices into the room and we stood. They sat down, we sat down – man, woman, man on their side; man, woman, man on ours. Done.

Mousy Judge Grace began. "Ms. Jones. When we last met we agreed to hear your side of things before sentencing. We gather this is a difficult time for you given that you're the mother of a newborn and a five-year old child. However, probation violation is a serious offense. And unfortunately, this isn't the first time for you. The court has been too good to you, Ms. Jones, and you've taken advantage of our generosity. Therefore, later today we will adjourn to determine the just punishment for your crime.

Weasel-faced Judge Paul jumped in. "Probation violation is an automatic jail sentence, Ms. Jones. Still, you were given house arrest for this offense the first time around. I'd call that luck. I doubt you'll be that lucky today."

Paunchy Judge Wilfred nodded. "But we will hear you. So, why don't we begin?" He shuffled the papers before him. "What possible reason would there be for you to go off to South America when clearly you knew you were violating your probation?"

Marco whispered in Jillian's ear and she nodded. "I didn't plan to go to Colombia at all, your honor. Yes, my husband was there on assignment but that's how we live. A detective, Charlie is often away."

"Charlie is your husband?"

I raised my hand.

"Continue."

"Well, I was learning Spanish because I was under house arrest and I had to keep my sanity. I was also learning more about Colombia because Charlie was there and I needed to intellectually connect. He was staying in a house deep in the tropical rainforest, which I happen to know something about."

All three judges smiled, Mousy the broadest. "I gather from the transcripts of your trial you know quite a lot about rainforests, both temperate and tropical. So, was it you plan to go to the Amazon to save trees?"

She shook her head. "Colombia has its own activists. I went to Colombia to save a girl."

Mousy sat back in her chair. "Is this a long story?"

"It's a sad story. You see, I'm also interested in women's issues so to practice my Spanish I connected with a Women's help organization in Mocoa. As you know, crime in Colombia is rampant, mainly due to cocaine production and control of it by gangs. These gangs move through remote villages, where much of the coca plant is grown, often murdering men and raping women. Through this woman's organization I was put in touch with a young girl whose father had been murdered and her mother and sisters were then raped and murdered while she hid under a bed. When I finally contacted her she was living at the Catholic church with its priest and two nuns but was going to be taken to a convent in Mocoa by the priest. But she never arrived. Her emails stopped. She'd been allowed to use the priest's computer at the village church but now there was nothing."

Paunchy nodded. "How do you know she never arrived?"

"I contacted the convent. They'd been expecting her but she hadn't arrived. Naturally, I was worried. She'd had such a sad life and we'd bonded. I was going to see her in person, I told her, when I was able."

"What about the Colombian police? Could they not have found her?"

"The women's organization contacted them but they weren't interested in a missing girl from a remote village. Needle in a haystack, they said." She looked from judge to judge. "You don't understand. I was her lifeline and now she had none. She wasn't just some stray she was real and broken from tragedy. I cared about her and felt she needed my help."

Paunchy was itching for his morning coffee and donuts. "So you decided to violate your probation and run off to Colombia. What about the ankle bracelet?"

"I have tiny ankles," she lied. "It was always too big. It just slid off."

"And you just slid onto a plane. Air Canada?"

"No. My dad has a private jet."

Paunchy nodded like a plush dog in the back window of a Studebaker. "Of course. How would I not know that?"

Well, she wasn't making headway with Paunchy but Mousy leaned forward. "Did you at least find the girl?"

"I did. I tracked down the priest at his new church and she was with him."

Paunchy liked that. "So, you didn't have to go at all!"

"Oh, but I did. The priest was a pedophile and was holding her prisoner. When I found her she was naked on a chair in his office. She'd been beaten."

Silence. Big deep breaths.

Weasel finally spoke. "Were you able to rescue her?"

"Not immediately. You see this priest was a monster. He was physically huge and wasn't going to let a little thing like me interfere with his pleasure. He beat me and broke my arm. He then locked me in a large closet and told me to take off my clothes or he'd break my other arm."

Weasel nodded. "And?"

"I was in excruciating pain so I complied although it wasn't easy to get them off. But I didn't need two broken arms. He returned to tie me to a chair and gag me. He said he was going to sell me and that a buyer was coming that night. That's when my husband found me. He and his friend, Willy, rescued Maria and I."

Silence. Nobody breathed. Finally, Mousy said,

"I'm sorry that happened to you, Jillian."

Wow! Jillian? She was getting personal.

"But I have a few more questions if you'd be so kind. What happened to the girl?"

"We dropped her at the convent before catching our plane home."

"And the priest?"

"Sorry, I don't know," she lied again.

But I knew. And the bastard deserved everything he got.

Jillian gave it one last shot. "I had to leave it all behind. I had to mend. You see, I was three-months pregnant with our son."

We would return for sentencing the following Friday.

# Chapter Sixteen

CALL IT LOGISTICS BUT SOMETHING was sticking in my craw. It was about a heroin shipment moving around, here now, there now, gone. Since Pearson Warehouse was familiar to me I came prepared with beefsteak for the Rottweilers, a tranquillizer gun, and a tire iron for Big Burly, the night guard. Practice never makes perfect, my underwear says, so Big Burley fired at me before I could clunk him on the head. Plan B. My Gloc 9. He rolled around hollering quite loudly for a surface wound to the arm so I had to tranquillize him too. I was running out of darts and feeling like a veterinarian.

Inside, Franco was working out with weights on a mat so I threw down four fifty dollar bills. He didn't argue. Franco didn't argue about much since he looked like a Calvin Kline model and had the abs to prove it. "You've got ten minutes, Hampton." And no, Marco wasn't physic. He used to work for Jack.

Even in a warehouse of electronics I could smell a commodity not to be confused with a jumbo TV on its way to a media room in some fancy home. No, like a drug-sniffing dog I headed to the pallets in the back corner, then scurried over a barrier to cut the ropes securing the canvass holding the oil barrels together. I sat down out of fear. OMG. Willy? If not it was the perfect copycat heist.

I was really tired of driving around with a trunk full of heroin so I stashed it in my locker to think. No, I wasn't storing the goods at my condo for Jack's boys to steal like the priceless artifacts in the past. Nor was the locker registered in my name. Since Peter regularly supplied me with phony credit cards this locker was rented by Farrah Fink of Seattle, a pink-haired sort of girl. So, now the game began.

First Willy. I summoned him to my office but before he arrived a visitor of major consequence appeared in my doorway. "Got any whiskey, Charlie? I feel like a wet dog."

He looked like a wet dog too with his chauffeur uniform dripping. "Come in, Tony. You know I always have whisky."

I poured us a couple while he lowered his fanny into the client chair. We drank for a while in silence. "Jack didn't bring Richard back I did."

We drank some more.

"I got word through my connections that Richard's cover had been blown so I immediately had him on his plane home. I'd previously bought Judge Clark's house as a present for Jack, but also for Plan B, and as it turned out, Plan B came in handy. Jack doesn't have my mafia connections and you know it, Charlie. So, why are you being such a big jerk?"

No answer required. I was being spanked.

Tony stood up. "We'll expect you at the house tonight. And no excuses."

Shortly after Tony's exit, Willy arrived, also wet. I offered him a coke, his preferred beverage, but fooled him by previously loading his drink with truth serum. It didn't take long for him to turn red, my signal to prod.

"So, was it you that stole the shipment Reynolds stole?"

"No."

"Do you have any idea who did?"

"No."

I waited. "It isn't like you not to know these things. Mini Chin once said you even knew what time the queen took a crap."

He smiled. "Mini gave me too much credit. She helped raise me, you know, being my mom's best friend." He giggled. "Ok. Mini wasn't my mom's best friend. She was a mean little witch with a capital B. Nasty. But I kind of miss her sarcasm. She used to tear Lugs to shreds. Poor Lugs. He was a lot smarter than she gave him credit for."

"I've always been curious about Lugs. Being so loyal to Reynolds and all."

"Well, it's a long story. As you know, Lugs, Reynolds and I went to the same Chinatown schools. And Lugs was as smart as Reynolds and I, the problem was his ADD. He couldn't sit still. While Reynolds and I applied our knowledge, Lugs just ran around like a chicken with its head cut off. It was amazing what he learned though. Likely through osmosis. Lugs is a very brilliant guy."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying nothing. Lugs doesn't have the balls to steal. Especially from Reynolds. So, you can rule Lugs out."

I wasn't ruling anybody out so I figured it was time to pay Sugar Zu a call. "Do you want to go on a safari, bud?"

"Sure. But I'm drunk now and might accidently shoot you." His head bobbed. "Just so you know."

We arrived at Mama Zu's house and parked next door. Deja vu? Was this _Groundhog_ _Day_ perchance? __

Flashback:

Zu-lander had bad taste in furniture for someone looking to make his way up in the world. I mean, it could have been his grandmothers. Old stuffed sofas with doilies on the arms sat facing each other; floral chairs with doilies on the arms looked tired; a lace tablecloth on the dining room table said a lot about aging without saying anything at all. The only thing older than the furniture in the room was the family photo on the wall. It may have been left over from the Russian Revolution.

Presently we were joined by a small Asian woman who also looked old and tired. "I'm taking the meeting for my son," she began. We didn't shake hands. She motioned to two small chairs not exactly constructed for my six-foot-two frame. I took a sofa while Willy squeezed his bottom onto the worn flowers. He was a nice Chinese boy and wanted to show respect. Zu-lander's mother began,

"Which one of you killed my son in Beijing?"

Oh. Oh. Gap-tooth Zu. It had to be genetics because his mother was gap-toothed too. "I did," Willy and I said in unison.

She patted her short grey hair. "You will pay. Not today but soon. Just know that."

Some things never change, therefore Willy and I had to take out the lone outside guard; easy-peasy with a crow bar. Looking down the barrels of two Gloc 9s, the inside guard retired to his chair. Willy removed the guy's gun from the table beside him and quickly tied his hands back through the chair rungs. I held my gun to Sugar Zu's head.

"So, we meet again, Sugar. You made it pretty easy. I mean your mother's Point Grey home? Surely you can do better than this."

"Richard killed my mother."

"Wrong."

"His boys did."

"Wrong. Richard had nothing to do with your mother's murder. It was a revenge kill and we'll leave it there. So, what can we do for you, Sugar? Now that you're not after Richard."

"I'll always be after Richard. And I'm not alone. Everyone is after Richard Chang. You don't sit at the top of the Triad ladder and not expect to be brought down. He got too big too fast. I mean, he became the biggest drug lord on the Pacific Rim by age thirty-three. And yes, he had a little help from his mother but everyone wants to cut him down. We all want a piece of him."

"He's retired, Sugar. You need to set new goals. Go after the new guys. In the meantime, tell me what you know about a missing drug shipment."

"Richard sent it and Richard stole it back from the guy who stole it from him. He may have you fooled but the evidence is clear. Richard Chang is not retired and never will be."

"That's it? That's all you've got?"

"There'll be more when I find Richard. My guys arrive tomorrow and my top brain is tracking him down right now."

"And if you're not alive tomorrow?"

"I will be. You're a thug but not a cold-blooded killer. You came for information and I told you what I know."

"Well, just know this. If anything ever happens to Richard Chang you'll answer to me. And I'm not a nice guy." With that I clunked him on the noggin and he passed out cold.

# Chapter Seventeen

I BROUGHT WILLY WITH ME TO 33 Terrace Place to deflect the daggers about to come from Jack. Shoeshine met us at the door.

"Nice to see you boys. You lost or something?" His glossy brown eyes glistened.

"Sort of. Should we crawl in on our bellies?"

"I would. He deserves a little slithering. But he's not alone. Meghan is here practicing his speech for tomorrow night. It's the last of the campaign. It's at the community centre and there could be tomatoes thrown. And shoes. He's not that popular in certain circles."

I nodded. "I'm surprised he's lasted this long. I mean, didn't he get into this for a lark?"

"Well, you know Jack. I think he thought it was going to be a lot more fun. So, go beard the lion, Charlie. I can't wait."

Jack and Meghan were huddled at the dining room table in deep discussion. "I won't say that," Jack spouted. "I refuse."

"Jack? It's politics. Politicians fudge things all the time. It isn't even a lie it's only a promise. All politicians make promises they don't intend to keep."

"I'm not one of them. I call a spade a spade. I'm not going to say I'll decrease property taxes just to get elected because that doesn't make economic sense. You can't run a city by increasing its deficit."

Meghan smiled. "I was just kidding, Jack! I'm trying to get your mind off the cracking down on crime thing."

"Why?"

"You don't have a plan for it. You have to tell voters exactly how you intend to crack down on crime. And your answer would be?"

He sat back in his chair. "More guns. Every household should have guns for their own protection. One in every room. Once a few burglars get shot they'll think twice about coming back."

"You're right. Because they'll be dead. How is that cracking down on crime? I mean, who is the criminal here? There'll be myriad court cases if that's what you want but an overloaded justice system is not practical or economical either." Her round brown eyes blazed. "And let's take your gun proposal one step further. What about the old fellow who doesn't like the barking dog next door. This dog is getting on his nerves so he decides to shoot it. But with his failing eyesight he accidently shoots the neighbor. What then?"

Jack giggled. "I'd say that's poor luck. For the neighbor, I mean."

Meghan threw up her hands. "Jack? You're trying my patience. Why don't you just give your slippery money to the West Van voters? Dole it out. Stand on a street corner and buy as many votes as you can. You'll end up in jail but so what, since you won't take this seriously."

Oh oh. Slippery money? She was pushing it. Jack pawed his mustache, a bad sign. "I used to like you, Meghan. You know. Before the slippery money thing. But now I feel bad. You sound like you're giving up on me just like everyone else."

She smiled. "Suck rocks, Jack. You're not getting to me with the guilt trip. Do you have anything new?"

He thought about it. "My problem is West Vancouver. It's the best kept city in the world and doesn't need a thing. I still think it's an uptight city though and needs to have some fun. I think my idea of a casino is a good one. Bring in some bright lights."

She sighed. "That's a terrible idea and you know it. However, maybe you can appeal to taxpayers with your first idea. That West Vancouver is a perfect city and you'll keep it that way. That you have no plans to increase property taxes in the foreseeable future."

He thumped his fist on the table. "That I can live with!" He then turned to Willy and me. "And now I'll have a drink with my prodigal son and the friend who led him astray."

Whew! Not half as bad as I thought. Soon Julia appeared, followed by Jillian who had put the children to bed. Next came Tommy and Christa, then Tony and Maya for the celebration. Peter showed up too and was ushered in by Shoeshine. Toasts all around to the new prospective mayor. Nothing was said about my brief absence or the fact that I was back. After staying on for the polite amount of time, Willy said his good-byes, also that Meghan was driving him home. What had he said about Chinese girls and their horrible mothers? I wished my best friend good luck.

The following morning I reviewed things with Jackie, tidbits about Susan Miller, her goons, and her secrets. As we were walking into her office he said,

"Who am I today? Your illegal son that can't speak?"

"If that works for you."

"It doesn't. I want to be somebody else."

"Who?"

"The real Jackie Chan."

We both laughed. "I'll think of something, Wildman. Leave it to me."

Inside the door, when Susan's bodyguards tried to block us, I turned to my sidekick. "Jackie. These are goons. Spell it now. Goons. g o o n s."

The two gorillas snorted.

Jackie jumped into the game. "Goons. g o o n s."

"I'm his tutor," I said to Roy and Buster. "I don't make enough as a PI so I teach English on the side."

They didn't get me.

"Jackie and I have an appointment with Susan. Spell Susan, Jackie. Susan. s u s a n."

He was cracking up inside. "Susan. s u s a n."

"Future Rhodes Scholar," I said to the boys as we pushed past.

"You're cwazy," Jackie whispered. "You're going to make me laugh."

Orange-haired Susan stayed put behind her desk. "Make it quick. I don't have all day."

Jackie and I took the chairs in front of her. "Thanks, Susan. We will sit down."

Jackie's eyes blazed with trouble. "Susan. s u s a n."

Susan was not amused. "You said you had information. It sounded like blackmail to me."

"Not at all, Susan."

"Susan. s u s a n." Jackie was on a roll.

"What I have the police already have. They have a duplicate of your hard drive and questions about certain files. It's not blackmail it's just the facts, mam. Just the facts."

White blotches appeared on her cheeks. "I don't believe you. You want money out of me so you're lying."

"I'm not lying and I don't need your money. But electoral fraud is a serious crime. Campaign contributions are not for your personal use. It's only a matter of time before the law closes in." I stood up and motioned to Jackie. "Just something to think about, Susan."

Jackie followed behind me spelling his new words out loud. "Susan. s u s a n. Goons. g o o n s."

The call came in from stiff-haired Alison around noon. We could meet at a condo on Esquimalt Avenue for drinks at four if my schedule allowed. It did. It was a modest two-bedroom apartment with a glassed-in balcony for accommodating a jungle of plants. Funny, but I didn't associate Alison with living things.

"This is my mother's apartment," she said, after arranging drinks and crackers on a tray. "Although she's in Hollyburn I haven't sold it. Maybe I'm sentimental but I always hoped she'd be able to come back home."

Soft side. They all tried it but whisky did it for me. I guzzled.

An artificial tear escaped from her eye. "I didn't kill Tom. Yes I came back with my gun and entered his house but he was already dead. He and the woman were both dead."

I guzzled more. "Did you know the identity of the woman?"

"No. It was too grisly. There was so much blood. Not until her name appeared in the papers today."

"Did you know her?"

"I did. It was Jennifer. Our receptionist. She was only nineteen years old." She choked back a sob. "How could he? How could he be such a pervert?"

No answer qualified as a good one so I waited.

"I never knew about Jenn. But now I do. It's horrible."

"I'm sorry, Alison. But if I'm being too crass what about the money? Did Victor ever know about the missing money?"

"I can't be sure but I don't think so." She was turning an uncomfortable red. "He would have confronted Tom."

"Maybe he did and maybe Tom shut him up. Permanently."

She shook her head. "Tom wasn't a killer. He had a weakness for women and gambling but he adored his older brother."

"Who do you think killed Tom?"

"My guess? A jealous woman. I might have killed him myself had someone not beat me to it. But he had gambling debts too. He could only steal so much from the business."

"You need to go to the cops, Alison. Tell them what you know. And hand over your gun to clear yourself."

She froze and stiff as her hair. "I'll do no such thing! And you can't make me either."

"You're right, I can't. But I have enough for a search warrant. Your choice." With that I strolled out the door.

I don't know why Yaletown and I aren't symbiotic we just have never been. I'm not polished enough for Yaletown with my own nose and un-bonded teeth and Christmas socks in summer if they happen to be the only clean pair in my drawer.

Flashback:

Yaletown, a former warehouse district, was now as trendy and upscale as the collector cars parked on the streets. After I parked my own aging Beemer I window-shopped my way along the sidewalk, even passing a men's clothing store where a glassy-eyed manikin stared back at me. Yikes! It was a Marco Midolo double and guess what? He was wearing an overcoat. I whistled my way down the block, not easy since I can't whistle. I also harbor a deep hatred for annoying whistlers in general. Marco and I weren't finished yet, by the way. Not by a long shot. But that's another story.

So, I entered the Opus Bar prepared to move with the eclectic, my being savvy and such, to nibble on O Bites while ordering a clever drink, a double whiskey to be sipped through an elegant straw. After a second clever drink I grew happier, more optimistic, and nicer in general, not that I wanted to get married I just wanted to get laid. On that note I happened to notice the shimmering screens and iridescent lighting I was paying for so I opted to cut back on drinks - quality singles that had a way of disappearing like shots. Damn. I was turning cranky so I looked around to pick a fight but didn't have the heart to punch a guy sporting a fresh manicure and plucked eyebrows. And new glasses.

Helena was already sitting erectly and sipping on a glass of wine when I arrived. She tossed me a look.

"Pinot Grigio?" I asked politely. An attractive brunette set down the double whisky I'd ordered on my way through.

"Pinot Gris. And thank you for keeping me waiting. I'm sure the bartender is much more interesting than I am. You know, since you had a drink with her and all."

"I was only being polite. She asked for my ID and I was so thrilled I bought her a drink."

"You are a very rude man."

"I try to be. You see, I don't have a happy life. I have an angry wife, two spoiled kids, and a father-in-law who puts a contract out on me every once in a while." I knocked back my double. "So, tell me, Helena. According to my research your son, Jacob, died in a car crash when he was seven. And now you've brought along a new Jacob to claim his share of Tom's estate. Want to explain?"

She did exactly that by throwing her wine in my face. (Wine stings the eyes, by the way.) Then without saying a word she stomped away.

It was about those long-nosed aristocrats hanging on the walls. They could use a little cheering, I thought, so I paid Emma a call. She was starting to be a worry to me now, so thin and pale and growing progressively thinner and paler. It wasn't supposed to work that way. Hudson led me down the hall past the disapproving dead people, not a smile to be found anywhere on a face.

"You guys could likely use a dirty joke," I whispered. "Jack told me this one when I was little. He said a dirty joke was when a white horse fell in the mud."

Hudson's hearing aid was Superman strength. "That's not funny, Mr. Hampton. It wasn't even finny when I was little. You must have been thick."

"I was thick. I was in bed with pneumonia. Jack kept them coming so I didn't go to sleep and die. Try this one on, sour people. 'What happened to the squirrel that ran up Liberace's leg?' Do you know, Hudson?"

He didn't turn around.

"He starved to death."

Hudson didn't react but the ancestors would have killed themselves laughing had they not already been dead.

Emma was seated in the parlor on her burgundy sofa, wrapped in a blanket and all swiveled up. I sat down beside her.

"You need to see a doctor, Emma. You're not well."

"I'm not seeing a doctor. I don't want to live. Not without my Stephie."

"I understand. But how would Stephanie feel about your wasting away and not helping to find her killer? I need your help, Emma. You need to stay strong for me."

She half-smiled. "You are my friend. You and Hudson are my only friends."

I took her hand in mine. "My friends don't give up. Ever. So, I'm going to put that on you. You have to try harder."

Hudson appeared with our drinks so I took hers and gave her mine. "You need something stronger. Sherry is for wimps. Now take a big sip."

She choked. "It's very strong."

"That's the point. Now finish it. I have all night and I have a few questions so just keep sipping."

"It's actually very warm. It's warming me up."

"I'm surprised Hudson didn't light the fire."

"I don't enjoy it anymore. I'm not well enough for a fire. I feel sick most of the time."

"It's grief. Is there any booze in this room? I could pour you a refill."

She pointed to a desk with funny legs. "In there. Victor always kept a bottle in there since he couldn't wait for Hudson to hobble down the hall."

I rescued a bottle of whisky. "Emma, when I was leaving the other night I thought I saw Susan Miller pulling into your driveway. Was I wrong?"

"Likely not. But Susan isn't a friend of mine she's a relative of Hudson's. Susan is Hudson's daughter."

"What?"

"It's a long story. Susan's mother died in childbirth and her sister raised Susan. Hudson left Vancouver to live elsewhere and not until he returned when Susan was a young adult did they bond. She visits him here in his quarters at the back of the house. He's very comfortable there. It's a large suite with four rooms and a fireplace. But she never stops to talk to me. Or Victor or Stephanie when they were here." She smiled. "Just as well since Victor eventually ran against her for mayor."

I downed my sherry. "I have appointments but I'll be back as soon as I can. And if you're not any better I'm taking you to a doctor. Just a little bit of advice. That sherry is bitter. Accept it from Hudson and pour it into one of your plants. Then pour yourself a whisky from the desk. Just don't let Hudson know."

She nodded. "The whisky is better."

It wasn't a long appointment, just long enough to watch Alison attempt to lug a computer out of the Blackstone offices. I trapped her in the doorway. "Need a hand with that, Alison?"

She ground her teeth. "Why are you doing this? Why are you torturing me?"

I took the computer away. "Well, maybe I don't have a life and you're my entertainment. Or maybe I take yellow tape more seriously than you, since the two principles owning this company have both been murdered."

"This is my computer. I have the right to take it."

"Really? So, the purchase order will have your name beside the serial number, right?"

She tried to hit me but I ducked. "Bad girl. It doesn't matter, Alison. The techies have already been inside this computer and have come up with some interesting theories, one being that Tom Blackstone was stealing from the company. The other? Well, you know that better than I. So, my friend Peter is outside waiting to take you for a little ride. You can tell him why you stole money from the Blackstones. And while you're at it, tell him why you murdered Tom and Jennifer, the young receptionist."

I barely made it back to my car before chucking my innards on the sidewalk. I'm not a guy to get sick on booze but that sherry was putrid. I had a lot of work to do in the morning if I lived.

# Chapter Eighteen

FIRST STOP, THE MOUSE SUITE to pick up Jackie and check up on Billy who now had complaining down to a science.

"Amster. The mice ate my sock. See?"

"Holy Sock!" There wasn't much left of his sock. "I'll pick you up a dozen new pairs, Sharky."

He almost smiled. "You lie good, Amster."

I peeled off a couple of fifties. "Will this do in the meantime?"

"I can't wear money." He took it nevertheless.

"So, what's new upstairs? What's that little weirdo up to?"

"Wugs used Weynolds computer again last night. When Weynolds was sweeping."

"What? What do you mean again? You never told me that Lugs had been using Reynolds' computer."

"I forgot. He uses it at night after Weynolds goes to bed."

"Really? That's interesting. Especially because Lugs has a computer in his own office. Willy's old office. Very interesting."

Switching hotels? Way too easy to trace. While waiting outside _The Oceanic_ I texted Emma with instructions. _This afternoon when Hudson brings your sherry pour it into a clean container with lid and hide it for me. I'll pick it up before dinner_. _Ty_

Jackie was giggling. "You look funny in that hat, Amster. And dark glasses too. You look like a cwiminal."

"That's the plan. I'm about to become one too."

In due time a limo pulled up and two familiar figures approached the vehicle, arm and arm. Following a fairly passionate embrace the female slipped into the back seat while the male turned back to the hotel. I jumped out of the car.

"Park it, Jackie. And no dints. No bent fenders."

I hurried in behind 'Pretend Jacob' and caught the same elevator to the nineteenth floor. There he opened the door to his suite and I pushed in behind. Piece of cake. I drew my Gloc 9.

"So, phony Jacob. Who are you really?"

"You don't fool me," he stammered. "You're just some shabby detective." He sounded confident for a guy with the shakes.

I smiled. "So, Jacob. Do you want to tell me who you really are or should I tell you?"

"Like you know. Right."

I liked his phony Swedish/German accent, a mix of Arnold Schwarzenegger and Bjorn Borg. I wondered if Arnold played tennis. "I do. Mug shots tell a lot and I have friends downtown who do that sort of thing for a living. You're German. You met Helena online and were perfect for her plan since you already had a record and were putty to convince. So, you went from auto theft to the big time, going after real money, inherited money not legally yours. Or necessarily hers. And do you want to know the worst part, Arthur? You killed to get it."

He was shaking like an electric chair victim. "You don't know what you're talking about. You have no proof. I didn't kill anyone."

"Well, let me see." I scratched my chin as all good thinkers do. "The murder weapon was found in a trash can two blocks from the victim's home. So, I think you and I will go on a little journey downtown. You're familiar with fingerprinting, aren't you, Arthur? In more than one country.

Big mistake. Arthur leapt at me and we both went down in a heap. Was there a struggle? Well, there's always a struggle before the end of the story. And the end of Arthur. The gun went off on his chest.

I was in the process of offloading Arthur, who was heavier than he looked, when Peter walked through the door, dragging a hotel manager behind.

"You're a little late, bud."

"Showing off again, are you, Charlie? I'm afraid I have to take you in for questioning. Again."

I was just leaving the police station when they brought Helena in. She screamed at me. "This is all your doing! I have done nothing wrong!" It sounded funny in Swedish/German.

"That's debatable. Arthur said you did. In addition to estate fraud he said you actually shot Tom and that your fingerprints will be on the murder weapon now recovered." I guess you know by now that lying is my specialty.

She started to scream. "You did this to me! You've ruined my life! I'll get you for this!"

I smiled. "No hurry, honey. You'll be behind bars a while. A very long while. Enjoy."

With the day almost shot, literally, I dropped Jackie back at the spy suite. "Order in a big meal on Jack. You've both earned it today." I then picked up the sherry sample from Emma before proceeding across the bridge to West Van and another dreary task. Susan Miller. It was quiet at Susan's headquarters with Roy and Buster taken in for questioning and the volunteers all gone home. She was sitting alone in her back office, head in hands.

"You wanted me to take you in, Susan?"

"Might as well since you caused all of this. I was doing just fine until you came along. I might have known that Jack Jones would find a way to bring me down."

I pulled up a chair. "This actually had nothing to do with Jack. It had to do with Victor. I only became involved after Victor was killed. Jack didn't ask me to I did it on my own. I just didn't want him blamed for something he didn't do."

She looked at me through teary pale eyes. "How do you know he didn't? To my knowledge, Victor's murder has not been solved."

I nodded. "Jack is not a murderer. Sure, people think he's a little crooked but that's as far as it goes. Besides, he had every intention of beating Victor and you both in the mayoral race. He was confident of a win."

"Ironic, isn't it? He's automatically mayor now. Victor is dead and I'm going to jail."

I waited.

"What do you know about the missing money?"

"Not much. Only that there was a suspicious Miscellaneous file. You know, money leant to you by relatives and only partial payments back. So, I figured campaign contributions coming in and that money being used for something other than your campaign."

"You broke into my office."

"That would be hard to prove but not necessary since SIU has a copy of your hard drive. The CPU tells a lot. You know. The RAM."

She shrugged. "Well, I know it had something to do with you. It always does. But continue. There's more I'm sure."

"Well, I followed you to Stanley Park and watched you hand over a fat envelope to a man in the night. That's it."

"And you thought it was money."

"I know it was money. Want to tell me what for?"

She sat back in her chair. "Do you happen to know a good lawyer?"

"As a matter of fact I do. A guy named Marco Midolo. He rarely, if ever, loses a case. You might want to contact him."

"Can you do that for me?"

I half-giggled. "Sure. Marco and I are tight. I'll have him meet us at the jail."

"You owe me that much."

I guessed I did. She was right about one thing though. Had I not started snooping around she would have become the next mayor of West Vancouver. By a landslide.

After leaving Susan at the jail with Marco, itching to get his hands on her stolen money, I headed for my West End condo, beat. I fell asleep in the shower and stayed there half the night. Ahead of me was another Rocky Mountain to climb.

# Chapter Nineteen

I WAS PRIVILEGED TO CHAUFFEUR my precocious daughter to school the following morning and she was all smiles.

"Dad. Did you kill any bad guys?"

I cleared my throat. "When."

"Since Monday."

"Only one."

"Only one? That's the best you can do?" Her sky-blue eyes twinkled.

"There's a shortage of bad guys right now. They're away at a convention."

She giggled. "You're being silly, Dad."

"How's your brother?"

"Noisy. He babbles all the time. Mom thinks he's cute but I think he's rude. He wants all the attention so she'll carry him around. Truthfully, Dad?" She shook her long dark curls. "I'm not that fond of Baby Jack."

After dropping Isabella with her teacher I went back to my favorite building in town, namely the jail, and waited in a meeting room for stiff-haired Alison. Big surprise. No hair spray in jail and she almost looked human. But she wasn't a happy jailbird, even after I told her that the murder weapon didn't belong to her.

"I wanted to shoot him. I wanted to kill the bastard for what he did to me."

"And Victor?"

"I wanted to kill him too. Sometimes. Other times not so much. I was in love with Victor at one point in time."

"Not Tom?"

"No. Tom used me for sex. Well, Victor did too." She turned all red. "Victor found out about the theft. He told Tom and they used it against me. They said I'd go to jail for a very long time if I didn't co-operate with them. So, I became a play-toy for both. They likely compared notes."

"That's pretty harsh."

She screwed up her face. "You wouldn't think so if you knew the number of blow jobs they made me do. I'd go from one office to the other and back."

"Was that better than jail?"

"I've asked myself that many times. But I was also paid a generous salary. A hooker's salary, I suppose. And with what I stole I bought my house. And property in West Van isn't cheap. It's not a big house, as you know, and still I paid 2.5. But they said they'd take that away from me too and send me to jail. I had no choice but to comply with their demands."

"So, Tom wasn't stealing from the company at all. You were."

"As Tom. I had all his passwords."

"And his gambling?"

"He was good at it. If he lost it one day he'd make it back the next. And don't look at me with contempt, please. It was hell."

I stood up. "I'm sure you'll be much happier in jail, Alison. Good luck with that."

Willy agreed to meet me at Reynolds penthouse suite since it was the only way the little weirdo would let me inside. He led us down the hall to his living room chirping all the way. "I don't like you, Charlie. I never have and I never will."

I silently giggled. If only he knew what I knew about him. I mean the online hookers? He got Billy so excited he had to get a few for himself.

The mural of Hong Kong at night welcomed us. It was three-dimensional and dazzling. The red sofas with cabriole legs begged us to sit down. Willy motioned for Lugs to tag along. "Pour us some drinks, Lugs. And one for yourself. You may need it."

So, we sat around like a bunch of godfathers making decisions, none of them good. Finally I tossed a baggie on the black lacquered coffee table. "Anyone know what this is?"

Reynolds turned up his nose. "Hard to tell unless tasted."

"Be my guest."

He wet his finger before opening the bag. "Heroin."

"Anyone else?"

Heads shook. They trusted Reynolds who'd previously worked for my brother-in-law, the infamous Richard Chang.

Reynolds sat back in his chair, his feet unable to reach the floor. "Is there a point to this, Charlie? Other than your wanting a free drink? You're not going to steal an ashtray, are you?"

"I'll need a bigger drink if I'm going to tell you what happened to a lost heroin shipment."

Willy grabbed my glass. "Hampton drinks big drinks, Lugs. Enough to kill an elephant."

Glass in hand I stood up to pace in front of the fire. "I have it. I tracked it down and stowed it away."

Reynolds' eyes bugged out. "You're not going to give it back to Richard!"

"Well, here's the thing. Richard never had ownership of this particular shipment. He never sent it. No, someone acting as Richard sent it."

Reynolds scowled at Willy. "You. You're the only one who could have done this. No one else has that kind of mind. I thought we had a deal."

Willy just smiled.

"It wasn't Willy," I said slowly. "But someone else has that kind of mind. That someone sent the shipment you hijacked and that certain someone stole it back. He even stored it in Richard's warehouse."

"Who?"

"Would that certain someone please stand up?"

Like a rusty robot, Lugs rose to his long feet. His face was beet red. "I did. I just wanted what everyone else had. I wanted money like Willy and Reynolds had. Is that so bad?"

Willy looked at Reynolds and Reynolds looked back. Then the unexpected happened. They both laughed.

"Lugs, you dog!" Willy began. "I didn't know you had it in you. Well done!"

Reynolds nodded. "I concur. I'm obviously not paying you enough and who am I going to leave it to anyway? Furthermore, you've earned my respect, Lugs. I taught you well. So let's all have another round of drinks to celebrate."

Glasses clinked. "To Lugs."

Little did I know that more was to come of this fateful heroin shipment.

Shorty Poo was on the mend. Dressed in a striped bathrobe he was sitting in a chair watching his TV when I arrived, a smaller bandage wrapped around his head. I put the basket of biscuits, chocolate and booze on his bedside table and poured him a drink. "It's just Bailey's Irish Cream, Shorty. Dessert."

He took a sip. "You good man, Cha'lee." Wide-eyed, he took a bigger sip. "You very good man, Cha'lee!" He drained the glass.

I poured him a second before stowing the bottle in a drawer under some towels. "Just for Shorty Poo. Don't let the nurses take it or they'll drink it themselves."

He smiled. "Just for Shorty Poo."

I snapped a few pictures for Richard then bid my new best friend goodbye. It wouldn't be long before Cha'lee was a very bad man again, I figured. Guaranteed.

Peter phoned me on my cell in the car. "This didn't take long, Hampton. It's not like toxicology that has to go through the blood. It's arsenic. Trace amounts but enough to make her sick and if increased, to kill her in the end. I assume that was the plan. Otherwise, why bother?"

I texted Emma to say: _I'll drop by later. Avoid the sherry at all costs. Eat only biscuits from a new box if hungry. Pack a bag because you're coming away with me. Yes I'm a little young but potty trained. Do not tell anyone about our elopement, not Hudson or Cookie._ I then headed out for my second home and it wasn't 33 Terrace Place. Susan was cranky when they brought her out.

"Didn't I just see you last night?"

"Well, I'm not planning on cheating on my wife if that's what you think."

She sat forward in her chair. "What's it like to be disrespectful?"

"What's it like to be a thief? I always wanted to be one but I'm a sissy when it comes to spending time in jail. I prefer the sex life I have at home. Met anyone yet?"

She narrowed her eyes at me. "You are just plain rude. And I don't have time for this." She scraped the floor pushing back her chair.

"Well, if you don't want murder tacked on to your charges I say you make time. I mean, are you really that busy?"

She inched her chair back in. "What do you want to know?"

"I want to know about the envelope. You were paying someone off. Who?"

Big deep breath. "A blackmailer. I've been paying him for years. I went through everything I had and finally, when I decided to run for mayor, I had a new source of income."

"Who was blackmailing you and why?"

"He was actually blackmailing my dad. You see, Hudson had gone to prison for armed robbery. It was after my mother died and I was sent to live with my aunt. He fell apart and got in with the wrong kind of people. They robbed a bank with guns and he received a life sentence."

"And?"

"He escaped. A fellow inmate tracked him down and the rest is history. I couldn't let him go back to jail so I kept paying. And paying."

"Did Hudson pay too?"

"In the beginning he did but for the last many years he's suffered from a rare medical condition and all his money goes towards medication. If medication stops so does he."

I stood up. "You don't know anyone who'd want to put a poisonous substance in Emma Blackstone's food or drink, do you?"

She held my gaze. "No. Is someone doing that?"

"Maybe. But I'm on it. I'll get back to you." With that I signaled to the guard who led Susan away.

# Chapter Twenty

EMMA WAS HOLDING FIRM ON her decision to stay home. What if she didn't eat or drink, then what? she wanted to know. So, I confronted her in her own _Zoo_ of _The Dearly Departed_ a.k.a. living room. (If those freaks didn't scare her nothing would.) There I decided to up my game by giving her the killer's options. Plan A. Poison wasn't the only way to go it was just the easiest. Plan B. Strangulation wasn't messy either. Plan C. Stabbing was messy but also difficult to trace if the killer buried the knife. Plan D. Guns, also messy. Stolen or otherwise they pretty much did the job and dead was dead. She didn't fight back much after that so I waited while she packed her bags.

In the car a further argument ensued during which Emma insisted on staying at a hotel. Not good. I needed to keep an eye on her and the serious guards at 33 Terrace Place served that purpose. Also, their counterparts next door would assist if needed. (Especially if a brawl broke out when one of Jack's Sunday parties turned ugly.) Not ever having been a houseguest, Emma thought that at fifty-seven she was too old to start. Only after I promised the private penthouse suite on the top floor, the retreat reserved for the queen, did she start to relax -- as long as it came with locks on the door because she wasn't about to entertain Jack. We giggled our way up two flights of stairs.

The kitchen was _Grand Central Station_ the following morning as word of the celebrity houseguest spread. Curiosity exploded.

Jack's eyes crinkled at the corners. "I hear you sneaked your mistress in last night. You know we're liberal here, Hamster. Sure, the queen is a little older and has blue hair. Is it the same color down below?"

We were crowded into the banquette overlooking the city and ocean below, except that clouds marred our view. Isabella was perched on Jack's knee.

"I want blue hair too, Dad. The girls at school have all kinds of colors. Do you think the queen would mind if I had blue?"

Jack was killing himself laughing. "I think she'd like that. Although the queen is very fussy I think she might let you have blue hair, and you alone, since you're such a princess."

Isabella beamed. "Dad?"

I glared at Jack. "Not my decision it's Grandpa Jack's. Since he's the queen's dad."

Jack changed the subject. "I'm sorry we had to cancel my speech for tonight. You know, since one of my opponents is in jail and the other dead. I could have gone on stage with my plan to crack down on crime but Meghan said no. That absence makes the heart grow fonder. Isn't that a crock?"

I thought about it. "I think if you went away for a while I might like you more. A decade works for me."

Pacing, Tony clunked me on the head with a spoon. "Show some respect. You're talking to the new mayor of West Vancouver. You should be polishing his shoes."

"I thought that was Shoeshine's job."

Shoeshine was busy making a cappuccino at the island. "In your dreams, Charlie. I never even polish my own. Jack has a guy come to the warehouse as you know. He therefore has someone to talk to when we're all hiding on him. He's pretty boring most of the time. Always talking about himself. And to himself."

"You're fired!" Jack shouted and everyone laughed. "Ok. That was dress rehearsal but next time."

That's when the whisky came out. Breakfast whisky, the best kind. I had to go. "I'm dropping Isabella at school but I'll be back for the big announcement party tonight."

Jack held out his glass. "Don't miss it, Hamster. It will be a Sunday party on Friday night. Huge."

I heard toasts to the new mayor and glasses clinking all the way to the front door.

After dropping Isabella at school I pulled to the side of the road to study a file, the Miscellaneous file from Susan's computer. Hmm. Why had I not seen this before? I had, actually. I just didn't connect the dots. I checked my watch. Peter would be executing the search warrant for the Blackstone mansion at that very hour and taking poor old Hudson in for questioning. Formulaic? Did the butler really do it in the pantry? I put a word in for the escaped convict. No background checks. Yes, he'd changed his name but it wasn't worth digging deeper to incriminate a decrepit old man.

Orange-haired Susan's face cracked with pleasure upon seeing me. "This is harassment. You need to leave me alone." She nevertheless took the chair on the other side of the table.

I didn't feel like smiling either. "Truthfully, Susan? I'd rather not be here but luckily I can still come and go. Perhaps not forever but for now. It's about the Miscellaneous file. There are four withdrawals of ten thousand dollars each within a two-week period totaling forty thousand dollars. Each one for a different reason, of course, such as loan repayment etcetera, but the final on the day Victor Blackstone was murdered. Want to tell me about that?"

She bit her lip. "I have nothing to tell."

"Well, then I'll tell you. You paid for the hit on Victor Blackstone. This was not an amateur job. The cops know this too and are piecing things together. Was it that important for you to become mayor?"

She sent me a look that could kill a buffalo.

I sat back in my chair. "But then I thought, was this about more than becoming mayor? Yes. Much more. Why? Because Stephanie Blackstone was murdered two days after Victor. She was murdered by someone she knew because she'd rolled down the window. And that someone was you."

"You can't prove a thing."

"The good news is I don't have to. I'll just turn my findings over to the authorities and they'll do the rest. Then I'm going on vacation. However, now we get to motive. Why would Susan Miller kill both Victor and Stephanie Blackstone? And then slow-poison Emma Blackstone to death. Why? With the Blackstones all deceased what happens with the will? Funny that. All the money would then go to Hudson. Tell me, Susan. Were you going to wait for your father to die, in which case you'd inherit the hundreds of millions, or were you going to murder him too? To get the money right away."

She pushed back her chair. "You'll never prove any of this."

"As I said before I don't have to. But forensics will. So you can pretty much say good-bye to the outside world."

It was tense in the courthouse meeting-room as Marco, Jillian and I awaited the hanging team. It wasn't a matter of an automatic jail sentence, it was the question of how long. Palms were sweaty.

Marco broke the silence. "I'm not representing your friend, Charlie."

"Good. I'm glad. But she's not my friend. Susan Miller is a cold-blooded killer."

"Really? And she's not your friend? I'd say you have a lot in common."

The justices entering the room saved slimy Marco from being on the receiving end of a good punch to the nose. Paunchy, Mousy and Weasel took their seats as did we. We waited. Finally, Paunchy said,

"Ms. Jones. This was not an easy decision. The letter of the law dictates an automatic jail sentence of two years less a day. However, sometimes there are circumstances that circumvent the letter of the law and in this case we believe there are. After much deliberation this tribunal has decided to sentence you to one day in jail which you've already served. You will continue under house arrest as previously assigned for the next five months. Hearing adjourned."

Done. Like three solemn penguins the judges waddled from the room.

It was a good Friday, I decided, and I'm not even religious, so after dropping my beautiful wife back to house arrest I headed out whistling. Alright, I already said I can't whistle so I was just making some kind of horrible noise. It was time. I'd sat on the heroin long enough and it was time to turn it in. There was just one little problem with all of that. My storage locker was empty.

Damn Peter! Who else knew about Farrah Fink of Seattle? But just as I tried to call Peter, Peter was calling me.

"Hampton. We confiscated three open bottles of sherry. Any guesses?"

"Progressively more potent arsenic?"

"My guess too. We'll know soon. Old Hudson was pretty shaken up under questioning. I doubt he knew anything, although it was hard to tell because he kept weeping. Kept saying how much he loved Emma and would never hurt her. Or Stephanie. He loved Stephanie too. Never liked Victor, he said, and that if he was going to poison anyone it would have been Victor."

"It wasn't Hudson. So we can rule out 'the butler did it in the pantry' thing. It was his daughter, hoping to cash in on the Blackstone money. She may even have planned to knock Hudson off although she paid his blackmail for years so I doubt it. Anyway, Susan is going to the big house for a long time. So, now for my question. Who else knows about Farrah Fink of Seattle?"

"No one. I have the credit cards made in batches."

"By whom?"

"My guy. He makes them by the dozens so would never know where that one ended up. No, Nik is not your man. Guaranteed."

"Who then? Someone had access to my locker."

"Who has a key to your condo?"

"Jillian. Oh, great! That's how it happened last time. They stole it from her bag. My wife needs to be more careful with my keys."

"Ah, Hampton. She makes booty calls. What more do you want?"

"I want not to be stolen from. And I have a good idea who did it by process of elimination. Jack didn't do it since he has no interest in drugs. Shoeshine never gets involved in crime of any kind, maybe because he's an escaped convict. Or a US draft dodger. Jack has several different stories about Shoeshine's past. So, that leaves the godfather. It was Tony Chan and he'd better have a damn good reason."

"Want me to arrest him?"

"Very funny. No, I'll take him down. Are you coming to the big announcement party tonight?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world. Jack will be so happy he just might pee his pants. Ironic, isn't it? Half the people in this town think he murdered his political opponent and nothing is going to change that. Oh, well. It gives people something to talk about."

After pulling into the driveway at 33 Terrace Place I sat in my car for a while, mainly to let off steam. A cigarette helped with the venting. Tony Chan was going down. While he'd tormented me for most of my life it was my turn now. I texted him to meet me in the library and he had the drinks poured before I walked in.

His old brown eyes twinkled. "Drink the first one fast, Charlie. You're going to need it."

I knocked back the whisky and held out my glass. "You have some 'esplaining to do, godfather."

He nodded. "Knock the second one back too."

I did. Then I sat down before the floor hit me. "So?"

He sat down in the matching wing chair before the fire. "You know the Triad, Charlie. Not that you were born into it but you've been ingrained for most of your life. Willy. Leo. Reynolds and Mini. Richard, of course. And yours truly. You know I control the high roller rooms in the casinos in Macau because you've been there to see it for yourself."

I waited.

"Although my nephews have taken over now I still get my cut."

"Tell me something I don't know."

"You've also been through the wars. I mean, how many times have you rescued Jack? A thousand? Not because Jack was ever involved in the Triad, his son was. He never knew Richard was his son, of course, until Richard was thirty-three. I take responsibility for that because I knew."

That was something I didn't know.

"There were rumors, you see. Always rumors about Richard and how he miraculously appeared with his aunt and uncle without any signs. She never looked pregnant and they never talked about a baby. Genghis Chang was high on the drug lord ladder and a very powerful man. He had a big house in Beijing with guards, inside and out. King Chin, Freddie Fong, and Shorty Poo rocked Richard's cradle."

"Ah huh."

"And there is always danger with power as you well know. Thus we have the Zu family and Won, Richard's mother and Jack's lover. It was unfortunate but when you rescued Jack and Willy from captivity in Beijing, both Won and Gap-tooth Zu got killed."

"You should write a book, Tony, since you have a very long story to tell. Both Won and Zu were master criminals so no loss there."

"Then Mama Zu showed up here with number two son, Zu-lander, you called him, intent on settling the score. You settled that too by eliminating both. Well, Reynolds actually eliminated Mama Zu as a revenge killing. However, that only angered Sugar Zu, the baby, who came with a vendetta in mind. He was after Richard and could only be appeased by money or power. So, I bought him off with the heroin and he went back home."

"He'll just come back."

"No, he won't. In Beijing he was arrested for trafficking and will spend the rest of his life behind bars. I can arrange things, you know. That's why they call me the godfather." He nodded to himself. "Because I am."

I held out my glass and he poured me another since he was holding the decanter in his hand. "I'm pissed with you, Tony. If that was your plan you could have asked me. You didn't have to break into my apartment. And there's something else I don't understand. The only connection to that locker was in my wallet, not lying around."

"Piece of cake. Sometimes you're so tired you sleep in the shower. Then anyone can go through your stuff."

"Anyone with a key. I'm still mad at you. Why didn't you just ask?"

"Two reasons. One, I didn't trust you to say yes. You're such a goodie-goodie and wanted to hand the stash over to the law. And two? Think about it, Charlie. I'm an old man. How else would I have any fun?"

# Chapter Twenty-One

AND SO THE PARTY STARTED. Word must have spread like wildfire because half of Vancouver poured in – West Van, North Van, the lower mainland too. I mean, free food and booze on Jack? The catering trucks went half-way down the block. I perched on the bed watching Jillian wiggle into a tight black dress, the skirt so short it barely covered her pubs. Isabella was seated at the dressing table, phone in hand.

"Dad. Mom only lets me play Candy Crush. Is that fair? I should be allowed to play Grand Theft Auto, shouldn't I?"

"Yes. Absolutely. And steal a car for me while you're at it."

Jillian was not amused. "Don't encourage her. She has bad dreams from nursery rhymes. There was a big hill, she told me. And a boy named Jack with a bandaged head who was chasing her with a pail of water and trying to drown her."

"Well, you can't trust anyone named Jack. It's a bad name all around. So, let's go join the party. Should we bring Baby Jack?"

"Are you kidding me? He screamed all day. The new nanny is with him so let's go have some fun."

At the bottom of the stairs we watched the lovely Emma Blackstone come through the door, Hudson in tow. She looked smashing in a silver gown with a fluffy blue wrap the color of her hair over her shoulders.

"Is it feathers?" I asked Jillian.

"Ostrich. She's very elegant. She's beaming at you and I'm jealous. The two of you obviously have something."

"I wouldn't read anything into it. I think it's called respect."

"Does Hudson know about Susan?"

"No. He thinks she's in the hospital with early dementia. And since he has it too it won't be long before he quits asking."

Emma was introducing Hudson to Shoeshine who'd driven her home earlier in the day. I suddenly felt sad about her situation, trapped in that old mansion with copious ghosts of the past. But maybe with me as her newfound friend we could change all of that. With Isabella on my shoulders I finally managed to inch my family into the living room and a lot of old friends.

Richard stuck out his hand. "Good to see you, old boy. I hear you're moving in next door. I'm back home now so it's all yours."

"What?"

Jillian turned pink. "I was going to tell you when we were alone."

I froze. "Tell me what?"

Wearing only a light head bandage now, Shorty interrupted. "You good man, Cha'lee. You bring Shorty Poo booze. You farts don't stink so bad now." He giggled. "Not like big skunk only baby."

I cuffed him on the shoulder. "You good man too, Shorty Poo. You ugly little prick."

He nodded. "You ugly big prick, Cha'lee."

We moved on through the crowd. Hugs from Julia. "You've been a busy boy, Charlie. I'm glad you solved the Blackstone mystery. Stephanie was a lovely person and is very much missed at our charity functions."

"Well, I have a replacement for you. Someone who needs to get out of the house. Someone who needs to sell her house, in fact, and get on with her life. Have you met Emma?"

"I haven't. She's reclusive I hear."

"She's here tonight so that's the first step. I'll leave the rest up to you."

She nodded.

"And don't forget to introduce her to Jack. He'd be good for her."

Willy came along dragging Meghan behind. "What do you think, Hampton. You know Jack better than anyone. What's he going to say tonight.?"

"Beats me. I only know one thing. You and I are not going to be his bodyguards at municipal hall."

"Ya think?"

Meghan looked stunning in a black brocade gown and with her hair swept into confusion on the top of her head. "Have you told him?"

"Told me what?"

Willy held up Megan's hand. Holy crap! She was wearing a diamond the size of a doorknob. I almost fell over.

"You'll need a sling for that thing, Meghan."

There were hugs all around.

I punched my bud on the shoulder hard. "I thought you were afraid of Chinese mothers."

"I am. But she won't be living with us." He winked at me before whispering, "I have enough money so she'll never live with us. She can have a penthouse suite at the Pan Pacific if she wants. It'll cost me but Meghan's worth it."

Can you believe it? Willy Chan, with a penchant for hookers, was going to settle down. Made perfect sense, though, since he was all tuckered out.

"One more thing, Hampton. Just so you know, Jackie says he got you. He got you big time and is telling everyone. He says you believed him when he told you that Shorty is a unik. King and Freddie too. He says they'll get you if they ever find out you believed him."

Great. King Kong Chin _the butcher_ was going to lop off my balls. Was there any good news? At the bar when I was pouring our drinks a familiar voice behind me said,

"Make mine big. And don't be so stingy this time."

I complied. I'd been complying most of my life and receiving only criticism in return. "I hear you have something to tell me, Jack."

He guzzled his booze. "Didn't Jillian?"

"No. Like you, Jillian is a coward."

"You're right. I am. So don't go anywhere because I have a speech to make." With that he headed for the big ottoman, with its legs now lying on the floor, and rang the old school bell. Cheers could be heard coming from all the neighbor's trampled lawns.

"Friends, family, friends of friends, friends of family."

"Cut the crap," Tony hollered. "Just get to the speech."

Polite laughter. Jack's boss had spoken.

Jack cleared his throat about a dozen times. "Never let it be said that Jack Jones was cheap."

Cheers.

"Or ugly."

Cheers.

"Or mean."

Lesser cheers. Who was he now? Donald Trump?

"We'll put that on your tombstone, Jackie," Tony hollered. "It will say Jack Jones was cheap, ugly and mean."

Jackie Chan was jumping up and down. "Do you mean me, Kow Gong?"

"Well, you too. I wouldn't want to leave you out. Except I won't buy you a tombstone. I'll just write your epitaph on a sidewalk with chalk."

Jack giggled. "What would we ever do without Tony Chan? And that's my first announcement. I'll be throwing a birthday party for my old friend at the Pan Pacific Hotel and am renting all the banquet rooms. If you want to come you'll have to get on the list because there's only so much room. So, let's all drink a toast to Tony Chan, turning ninety."

Cheers could be heard in Chilliwack.

"And now for my second announcement. As the new mayor of West Vancouver I'm facing big hurdles, the first being paperwork. I've never liked paperwork. Or meetings. I hate meetings. Nor have I liked answering to anyone, let alone an entire city. Can you come up here please, Rob?"

A decent looking man wearing a tan suit and glasses stepped up on the ottoman. "Ladies and gentlemen. For those who don't already know our deputy mayor this in Rob Truman. And please give Rob a welcoming hand as the new mayor of West Vancouver because I'm stepping down."

Silence.

"I'm stepping down." He shrugged. "Let's face it. Half the people in this town think I murdered my political opponent and while I thought about it, we all know now I didn't. But it's not like running your own company which I have for many years. No, it's charts and graphs and people whining about this and that. I get a headache just thinking about it." He patted Rob's shoulder. "But Rob here has been a politician his whole adult life and he likes that kind of shit. He likes arithmetic. He likes shaking hands and kissing babies. Don't you Rob?"

He scowled. Maybe not so much but it came with the territory.

"So, let's all give Rob Truman, the new mayor of West Vancouver, a big hand so I can push him off this goddamn platform and get on with the last part of my speech.

Polite clapping but not an ovation. People were still in shock. Rob stepped down into an ambivalent crowd.

Jack drained his glass. "So, here's the thing. Some of you know I own Judge Clark's house next door due to the generosity of my good friend, Tony Chan." Loud clapping. "I'm fussy about my neighbors, you see, and I didn't want another Judge Clark. Or party people. No wild parties although I might have attended a few out of curiosity."

Giggles. He would have been there all the time.

"And my family is expanding. On that note, I'd like to extend congratulations to a man who is like a son to me, Willy Chan. Willy has run off with my unemployed publicist so I'm actually glad he's giving her a home. Please join me in welcoming Meghan into our family. Treat her right, Willy, or you'll answer to me."

Cheers and loud applause all around. No one dared to cross slick Willy Chan. Especially given that his uncle, Tony Chan, still topped the Triad ladder at age ninety plus. News flash, however. Tony lied about his age so we never really knew the truth. Jack secretly thought that Tony was pushing ninety-three.

Jack held out his glass. "Refill please, Hamster."

Show dog time. I came with the decanter. I poured. He glugged.

"Continuing on then. I own Judge Clark's house next door and I'll be tearing it down to build an architectural masterpiece fit for my kin. You see, in this rapidly-expanding family I have two beautiful grandchildren with promises of more to come. And I think it's finally time they had their own home."

The floor went moving beneath me. Home? Whose home? More children? I already had a baby who was a really big suck. All I needed now was more screaming babies although apparently I didn't get to have a say. I never did. No, I knew the day Jack showed up at the funeral home to claim me after my parents died in a car crash that it was all over for me.

Flashback:

I didn't hear him come into the funeral chapel he walked so softly but I could sense his presence. When Jack Jones entered a room dust mites stood at attention. He placed his paw on my shoulder. "You're not alone, kid. You have us. And we want you to come live with us at 33 Terrace Place."

Was that supposed to be good news? I was scared of Jack, my dad's employer. He was big and noisy and liked to tease me a lot. He had a mop of curly brown hair and a bushy mustache that lent him a furry look. "Why?" I asked.

He patted me on the head. "Because you're an ornery little critter and we like you. We all do. It's unanimous."

"I can't live with you, Jack." I was reasonably brave for a ten-year old. "In case you forgot I'm a ward of the courts."

"Not anymore. I signed for you today."

Well, that was the moment things forever changed. When 'the Jack' signed for something he got it. I was his property now. "And you got me?"

His eyes crinkled at the corners. "I didn't have to trample over anybody, you understand. There wasn't exactly a line up for you, Hamster."

That's how Jack showed affection. You just had to know what a left-handed compliment was and mostly how to avoid it. But Hamster stuck. I was Charlie Hamster, according to Jack. It was my new name. And although it took some time to adjust to Jack I soon developed a tough outer shell and a huge admiration for my new owner.

Sure, I was now going to live next door to Jack. He'd been planning it for years. And that skywalk he wanted between houses was actually a bridge from my library to his, meaning that if I didn't show up for a nightly nightcap/s he'd be coming my way. Talk about a curse.

Jillian grabbed my elbow.

"I'm sorry, Hampton. I wanted to tell you about Jack's plans but Isabella wouldn't get out of the way. I even tried to bribe her but she stuck like glue. Her dad was coming and she wasn't going anywhere."

I put my arms around my beautiful wife. "So, we're having a brood then. I should have known you'd raise your own protesters. You'll have them all out rallying before they're ten years old. Save the trees! Save the planet! Save the generations yet to come."

She snuggled against me. "Don't blame me. I'm not the horny one."

# Epilogue

SO, THERE WE WERE, STANDING at the church doors and Willy second-guessing. "Am I making the right decision, Hampton? It's pretty scary."

"Hookers are scary, buddy. They're the scariest women on the planet and with them you never batted an eyelash. So, what can Meghan do to you?"

"A hundred million. I'm now worth over two."

"No pre-nup?"

"Her mother wouldn't allow it. She even threatened to beat me with a rolling pin."

"So, what's the problem? If it goes down the toilet you still have a hundred million with the ability to make a hundred more. Two hundred more, even."

He slapped me on the shoulder. "That's what I thought. And the bonus is that I'm in love with her. She's the most challenging woman I know and as beautiful as a snowflake. "

Alright. We both cracked up. Not about the challenging woman or her beauty, a given, but a snowflake? I offered Willy one last glug of whisky from my flask. With any luck, he'd manage to stay on his feet.
