When Hell Freezes Over Page 18

  “Some merchandise may have gone missing.”

  “What kind and how much?”

  “Don’t know the answer to the first question, and as to the second, apparently plenty.” Rob was silent for a moment. “Say, Shan, could we do this in person? Seeing as you’ve come all the way down here, it might be easier.”

  A wicked thought flashed through her mind. She seldom got Rob alone, and she’d been wanting to discuss their kids. Whenever she had him on the phone, he always found some excuse to sign off when she brought up those kinds of problems.

  “Sure. Where can we meet?”

  “How about your hotel?”

  Not a chance, buster! she thought. “Know a good restaurant around midtown? I’m starving.”

  “Seeing as we’re talking about Italians, how about a plate of pasta and some vino?”

  They arranged to meet at eight, and Shannon told the cabby to take her directly there, since time was short and she wanted to be seated when Rob arrived.

  She’d ordered a decent bottle of red wine and had drunk about half a glass and eaten a slice of hot bread when he made his big entrance.

  Some things never changed.

  The maitre d’ had a backslapping hug put on him, and Rob shouted his name as if they were best friends who hadn’t seen each other for twenty years. Every eye in the restaurant turned to look— which was the whole idea. Shannon refrained from rolling her own eyes as he also shouted the length of the restaurant to her.

  Sitting down at the table, he leaned across to give her a kiss, but that was short-circuited by Shannon taking another sip of wine.

  “You’re looking really good, Shan,” he said, sitting back in his seat. “Really good.”

  She looked across the table at her ex, wondering why she’d never noticed what a complete phony he was. It was like standing behind a magician, watching him do his tricks and being able to see how it all was done. Rob hadn’t changed; it was Shannon’s perspective that had.

  After pouring him some wine, she did relax enough to clink glasses.

  The waiter came by for their order, and after he left, they stared at each other for a few moments. They really hadn’t shared any time alone since she had found Rob with another woman. Everything about this meeting felt foreign to her, as if it were on the edge of being out of control. One thing she’d prided herself on since the breakup was always being in control, and she wasn’t about to let that slip as she had the previous evening with Rachel.

  “Thanks for agreeing to help,” she said, and stifling a grin, added, “and asking me out for dinner.”

  The man across the table obviously thought she was on an expense account and would be picking up the tab. He didn’t hide his frown quickly enough by sticking a piece of bread in his kisser. Feeling more at ease, she pulled out her notebook as their salads arrived and continued to pump Rob for details throughout the dinner, much to his obvious annoyance.

  “So who haven’t you asked for information yet?” she inquired at one point. “I don’t want to leave any stone unturned on this.”

  “You always were a little bulldog,” Rob said, then shrugged. “Youseem to think that I’m as well-connected in this town as I was back in T.O. Working for the agency now, I don’t meet with cops the way I used to. Plus, I’m Canadian, and that doesn’t help in some circles.”

  “You’ve come up with a fair bit since my call at two o’clock.”

  “Look, Shan, what is this all about? You’re moving into some pretty deep waters here and—”

  “Think I’m not equipped to handle it?” she shot back.

  “No, no. That’s not what I’m saying. The people you’re asking about are the roughest players in town, and they have a long reach. I’m talking about southern Ontario. Cross their path and you’re really asking for trouble.”

  “I’ve already crossed their path, or at least my client has. They seem to have some interest in him, and he isn’t sure why. I’m trying to help him find out.”

  “Who is it?”

  “A guy who rents space at the opposite end of the building where the office is.”

  “That music warehouse? Is this about drugs?”

  “Why does everyone think that music and drugs always go together? The guy’s clean in that regard.”

  His response was a knowing smirk.

  “Why did you mention drugs? she asked.

  “Because a little bird told me that’s what’s missing. You call me up and ask about some people, and one of the answers that comes up is drugs. You’ve been hired by someone in the music business, and I just think ‘bingo’: cause and effect.” Rob looked hard at her. “I know you’re still really pissed at me, and probably always will be, but we shared something together once, and it was a fine thing. I care about you. You’re the mother of my children. Have you checked this guy out really carefully? Is he on the level?”

  “Do you think I’m that inexperienced? Of course I checked him out!”

  Some of Shannon’s heat in her response came from the fact that she had taken Michael Quinn at face value and hadn’t done any kind of background check on him—not that she’d ever admit it to Rob.

  “Is he from Canada or the States?”

  “Britain originally, but he’s been in Canada for a number of years.”

  “Any connections down here? I could check up on him for you. What’s his name?”

  Shannon didn’t want to tell Rob, but couldn’t think of an excusable reason not to. “Michael Quinn.”

  Rob whipped out his notebook and started to write. “Any aliases?” Dammit! How had the conversation gotten away from her? “Well...”

  “Well what?”

  She sighed. “I guess there’s no reason not to tell you, but I want this kept quiet. He’s also known as Michael Quicksilver.”

  His face went blank.

  “Remember me talking about a rock band called Neurotica?”

  Still a blank.

  “That band I told you about that I liked so much in high school.”

  The light bulb finally went on, and Rob’s expression was rather comical. “Not your teenage heartthrob?”

  Shannon couldn’t do a thing to prevent her blush.

  Rob knew he finally had an opening. “Still stir your blood?”

  “Give me a break, Rob! The guy’s a client, and he’s got his shorts in a knot because some mob types tried to rough him up!”

  Rob’s expression told her he didn’t believe her. She wanted to wipe it off with a good right jab. Even though he would never tell anyone how it had happened, she knew how Rob had gotten his crooked nose. Never condescendingly offer to teach the tomboy daughter of a cop how to box.

  When their main courses arrived, she turned the talk to their children. Since Rob seldom came to back Toronto, and the kids were only free during school holidays, he didn’t see much of them. He didn’t seem pleased about the news he heard.

  “Okay. I’ll talk to Little Rob and get him to straighten up and fly right. All boys go through this at some point or other. I’ll give him a fatherly boot in the rear end. That’s all he needs.”

  “And Rachel?” Shannon asked, gazing at him steadily.

  “She’s your department. You know she has me wrapped around her little finger. There’s too much of you in her.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  For only the second time she could remember, Rob seemed unsure of himself.

  After a long minute of silence, he spoke. “Look, Shan. I know I made a complete fool of myself, that I never should have done what I did. I hurt you, and you didn’t deserve that. It was just a stupid fling. She really—”

  She held up her hand, pain showing clearly on her face. “No, Rob, don’t.”

  He didn’t seem to notice. “I’ve been planning on coming up to Toronto to see the kids, to see... you. I thought maybe we could all go to my family’s cottage in the Gatineaus and—”

  The anger she’d kept bottled up for so long boiled
over. “You sonovabitch!” she shouted as she sprang to her feet. Shannon didn’t care that everyone in the tiny restaurant had stopped talking. She just wanted to strike back at the person who had hurt her so badly. “Don’t you dare think you can do this to me! I’m not the gullible fool I once was.” She leaned forward, her face inches from his, and hissed, “You see, I made it my business to find out about the others.”

  Struggling to hold back the tears until she was out of the restaurant, away from him, she grabbed her coat and overnight bag and made for the door.

  Out on the street, she looked around hopelessly for an empty cab. The last thing she wanted was for Rob to follow her out. It had been a huge mistake to ask him for help. All this time she’d thought the wounds had healed, but now she knew they had only scabbed over.

  Using her fingers to whistle, she finally managed to get the attention of a passing hack. He crossed over dangerously right in front of another car, whose driver blasted his protest on the horn, and pulled up, and slid to a halt in the slush covering most of the road.

  “Where to, lady?”

  She told him and slumped back, trying to slow her rapidly beating heart, more angry with herself than she’d been in a long time.

  Checking in at the hotel was mercifully quick, since most guests for that night had already arrived. Because she didn’t feel comfortable wasting Michael’s money on classy digs, the room was tiny, its double bed leaving barely enough room to squeeze around the walls. At least it was clean.

  She dropped her coat on the one chair, flipped on the door’s safety catch and flopped onto the bed.

  “Well, you really screwed that up!” she said to the ceiling and squeezed her eyes shut as more tears threatened. She was determined not to cry, even if no one would ever know.

  Her cell phone rang. She knew she’d hear Rob’s voice. “Shan... I just want to apologize. I’m really sorry I upset you so much. I didn’t mean to; I just—”

  “No. Drop it. This conversation is over.” She was in the act of hanging up when she heard his tinny voice squawking at her. “What is it?” she asked tiredly.

  “I was trying to tell you that someone put me on to another person after I spoke to you earlier. You ran... ah, I upset you at the restaurant before I could tell you about him.”

  She sighed, figuring this was another little ploy of Rob’s to keep her on the line. She was well aware the man didn’t give up easily, regardless of the fact that he’d earlier referred to her as a bulldog. “Tell me about him.”

  “I don’t know much,” he admitted. “I only got his name and the fact that he might be interesting to talk to about Angelo Spadaro.”

  “Can you arrange a meeting?”

  “Might be possible. When?”

  “Tomorrow morning. Call me if it’s a go,” she added and hung up as he was still trying to say something.

  That at least had felt good.

  ***

  Shannon spent a restless night. The radiator in her room clanked intermittently, and the corridor outside her room seemed to be party central until well after two a.m. A call home had told her that Robbie’s teacher had called, and Rachel hadn’t even wanted to talk to her. If Rob didn’t come through tomorrow, this entire trip to the Big Apple would have turned out to be worse than a total waste of time.

  Finally giving up trying to sleep around five thirty, she sat up in bed making notes about everything she’d learned concerning Michael’s case. She routinely did this as a way of clearing out her brain. Writing things down in an orderly fashion also often suggested new lines of inquiry that she might otherwise have missed. Her ex had preferred “brainstorming” through problems by sitting around and talking things over. Shannon had always thought of it as “bullshitting” your way through the problem. For years she had continued to make her detailed notes, while Rob would lean his chair back on two legs and poke fun at her “bookish” ways.

  An hour later, she took a shower, dressed and went down to the hotel’s coffee shop, continuing to work on her notes throughout the meal. One jerk businessman tried to sit down at her table, but she quickly sent him packing with a baleful expression and a tart putdown. At the end of the meal, her bad mood was still intact.

  On the way back up to her room, she looked at her reflection in the fingerprint-spotted, polished metal of the elevator doors. I’m not normally a bad-tempered person, she thought. What’s wrong with me?

  Her cell rang shortly after ten.

  “Shan?” Rob’s voice.

  “Yeah. You got anything for me?”

  “The guy said he’d talk.”

  “When?”

  “Soon as we can get there,” he replied.

  “Where is that?”

  “Up north a ways. Westchester. It’s about a forty-five minute drive. We’re also taking along someone to make the introductions. Do you have a problem with that?”

  Shannon was relieved by that last bit of news. After the previous evening’s festivities, she really hadn’t been relishing being alone with her ex for an extended car ride.

  When she hopped into Rob’s car fifteen minutes later, the passenger was introduced to her simply as Frank. She knew better than to ask questions.

  He looked to be on the far side of fifty, skinny and had definitely seen his best days. His thin hair was grey and combed straight back. His shirt bore several stains, as did his tie. It was obvious he had a complete set of dentures, since he constantly sucked on them.

  As they drove north to a town called Port Chester, the men in the front seat talked about nothing but sports, leaving Shannon to go over her notes and look out the car window. The skies were leaden, heavy with more snow. The only thing looking up was the temperature, now hovering near freezing, which felt absolutely balmy after the recent deep freeze in Canada.

  Port Chester was a down-at-the-heels, small city hard on the Connecticut border, and it didn’t surprise her when they pulled up in front of a seedy-looking bar.

  Frank finally turned around and spoke to her. “You know, Ed Sullivan came from Port Chester.”

  “Really? That’s very interesting.”

  “Quite a man was our Mr. Sullivan. Quite a man.”,

  It didn’t say much for the town if Ed Sullivan was its most noteworthy export.

  The interior of the bar was dark and stank of stale beer and cigarette smoke. Frank immediately lit up, as did Rob, which surprised her. He’d proudly been smoke-free since they’d met, and she wondered if his new floozy was also a smoker.

  They paused at the door while Frank’s eyes got used to the dim light. He saw who he was looking for and led them to a table in a back corner. The person sitting there looked to be the same sort of person as Frank, except he was bigger, overweight and gave off an aura of being much more dangerous. At a nod from the man, they all sat down.

  “Eddie, this is Rob, the guy I was telling you about,” Frank said by way of introduction.

  “Who’s the fluff?” Eddie asked, glaring at Shannon. “You didn’t say nothing about her.”

  Before Frank or Rob could answer, Shannon leaned across, sticking out her hand and said, “I’m actually the one who wants to hear what you’ve got to say.”

  Eddie just stared at her hand. “You’re from Canada.”

  Shannon pulled it back. “Yes, I am. You’ve got a good ear.”

  “Nah. My second wife was from there. Could talk the hind leg off a mule. Believe me, I heard plenty of her damn accent. You one of them Mounties?”

  “No. I’m a private investigator.”

  “A female dick? That’s a laugh.” Eddie pulled out a pack of cigarettes. “Anybody mind?”

  Shannon shrugged, resigned to her fate. All three males at the table had now lit up, and the air became that much thicker.

  Eddie tapped the side of his fat nose. “I can smell cops, you know. That’s why I ain’t never been in the slammer. We’re talkin’ twenty-nine years, missy.”

  “Impressive,” she answered, meaning it
. In Eddie’s line of work, you had to watch out for everybody, especially your friends, who would shop you in a minute if they thought it would save their own skin.

  “So I guess you want to hear about my boy Angelo.”

  Shannon nodded as she took out her notebook. “Yes. Anything you can tell me.”

  Eddie raised his empty beer glass and wiggled it. “Anybody else joining me?”

  Frank also ordered a beer, but Shannon and Rob both declined. As the bartender brought over two bottles and a glass, Shannon paid and fat Eddie began to talk.

  “I don’t like to talk behind nobody’s back, but sometimes you gotta, know what I mean? Angelo’s my sister’s kid, and he never had much up here,” Eddie tapped his head. “I brought him into the business and figured it was up to me to keep an eye on him.

  “Angelo’s a good lookin’ kid, but too often he let his ‘little head’ do his thinking for him, meaning no disrespect, but that’s what happened this time. You see, old man Mastrocolle had a bit of a problem, and Angelo got caught up in it.”

  “What sort of problem?” Shannon asked.

  Eddie looked at his buddy Frank, who nodded slowly. “Some stuff went missing.” Eddie leaned forward, and so did everyone else.“Actually more than some stuff. A lot of cash, too, and as you might guess, Mastrocolle was not happy about it. You see, he’s very old school. It’s all about honour with him, and he figures that someone has dishonoured him. Heads roll when that happens.”

  “Can you give me any details?”

  “With borders being watched more closely these days, you gotta be smart if you want to move merchandise. In the old days it was easier.”

  “You got that right, Eddie,” Frank said between swigs of beer.

  “Was the shipment coming in or going out?” Rob asked, speaking for the first time.

  “Coming in. Now that Afghanistan is back in the game, and Europe one big country more or less, some guys arranged for the shipment to come through England. That’s usually a tough route, ’cause them Limeys ain’t no fools, but like I said, it’s tough everywhere.”

  “So you’re saying Mr. Mastrocolle lost his money and didn’t get the shipment either?” Shannon asked and Eddie nodded. “Know how that happened?”