Jack Taggart Mysteries 7-Book Bundle. Don Easton

going on?” asked Louie.

      “No,” said Jack. “I just talked with my friend but he doesn’t know who the Brit is. Doesn’t think Damien knows either.”

      Louie nodded and said, “Too bad. Nothing else happening?”

      “No. That was it.”

      Louie looked at Jack closely, then said, “Maybe just as well. You need a rest. I want you to take some time off. We’ll find out who the Brit is sooner or later.”

      “I’d rather it be sooner.”

      “All of us would. The thing is, he obviously knows what you look like. It would be better for everyone concerned right now if you weren’t around. Maybe take a week or two off. You should be with Natasha.”

      “I’m okay ... and there’s no way this guy is going to start dictating who works in this office and who doesn’t.”

      “Have you thought about Natasha? Cooped up at the farm? She must be worried sick about you. I’m not telling you to run away and hide. Just take a holiday. Maybe I-HIT will nail him in the meantime.”

      Jack sighed and said, “I’ll think about it over the weekend. Monday is a holiday so I should be rested by then.”

      “Why not take tomorrow off too? In fact, you should take off now.”

      “It’s only eight-thirty in the morning.”

      “Yeah, and you’ve already put in ... what? Four hours? How many more hours in the last couple of weeks? You’re a newlywed for God’s sake. Start acting like one and go see your bride.”

      Jack thought for a moment, then said, “Thanks, Louie. I appreciate what you’re saying. I’ve got some paper work to do. I’ll leave at noon.”

      “Good.”

      “Anything further from Danny?”

      Louie frowned and said, “I spoke with him briefly, tried to be supportive. Don’t think he wants to talk to any of us right now. They’re all getting counselling. I think we should just butt out for now.”

      Jack called Natasha and told her that he would be out to the farm shortly after lunch. She said she was pleased, but he heard the irritation in her voice. He knew he couldn’t hold her off much longer from getting back to the clinic.

      At noon, Jack stopped at a café for lunch before driving out to the farm. The café did have one thing going for it, thought Jack, as he dabbed a greasy french fry into some ketchup. It was clean and the service was friendly. Unfortunately, it was just a little too busy for Holly to be able to take the time to visit with him.

      He watched as she greeted the customers and gave them all big smiles. Sometimes her lips trembled slightly, revealing her real thoughts. It had been less than a month since her husband had been gunned down. Pretending to be happy ... trying to get that extra quarter or loonie for a tip. Welcome to hell.

      Jack left a twenty on the table and nodded politely to Holly as he left. He was barely out the door when she came running after him.

      “You forgot your change,” she said.

      “No, that’s for you. It’s your tip.”

      Holly shook her head. “You don’t drop a twenty on someone for a seven-dollar burger. I don’t take charity,” she said, thrusting the twenty toward him.

      “It’s not charity. It’s just a tip.”

      Tears filled to the brim of her eyelids and she said, “You think you can buy off your guilt for twenty bucks? Forget it! What you ate is on me!”

      Jack didn’t know what to say. It occurred to him that she might be right.

      “Get the two men who killed my husband and shot Charlie,” she said, “then you can leave me a tip.”

      Jack nodded, then reached over and slowly took the twenty from her hand. “You’ll be getting this back soon,” he said. “That’s a promise.”

      Natasha waited until she climbed into bed beside Jack, and then whispered, “How much longer?”

      Jack pulled her close and she lay with her head on his chest. “I may get a break tomorrow night,” he replied.

      “I don’t like the sounds of that,” said Natasha. “You going to be wearing your black turtleneck?”

      Jack paused. Natasha was catching on. The black turtleneck was what he often wore at night — usually when he was doing something he shouldn’t be doing. He chose to ignore her question and said, “If all goes well, I may find out who the Brit is in the next few days. Getting tired of being a farmhand?” he added, hoping to change the conversation.

      “Incorrect answer, officer. Your failure to respond would indicate a yes to the turtleneck question. As far as changing the subject goes, Liz and Ben have been great. I enjoy being around Marcie, too, but I miss you and I also need to get back to the clinic.”

      “It’s just not safe. Not after what happened.” “What is going on tomorrow night? Can you talk about it?”

      “Basically, the Brit knows a lawyer by the name of Leitch who works on retainer for Satans Wrath. The bikers don’t know about the Brit, but I know Damien could find out who it is if he wanted to.”

      “How? You’re not planning on owing him another favour?”

      “Shhh. Ben and Liz are in the next room.”

      “You’re not...” whispered Liz.

      “No. I’ve used up any favours with him.”

      “Why would he find out, then?”

      “A character nicknamed The Toad is taking over the club. I want Damien to distrust The Toad. Then I want him to think that The Toad, Leitch, and the Brit are working together. It won’t take him long to find out who the Brit is, providing I can get him back into power. When he does, my friend will know and then so will I.”

      “How will you do all this?”

      “I’m working on that.”

      “What if you do and Leitch refuses to tell Damien?”

      Jack chuckled, then said, “Damien isn’t a cop.”

      “Meaning?”

      “He can be more persuasive.”

      Natasha looked up at Jack’s face, then replied, “Oh ... I see.”

      chapter twenty-one

      It was seven-thirty on Friday night before The Toad and two underlings showed up at the Spotted Owl. Jack was parked in a lot across the street and watched the motel through binoculars. He had seen The Toad last year when he interrupted an executive meeting at Damien’s house, but he glanced at a photo just to be sure.

      Jack smiled as he recalled the event. He had intentionally interrupted the meeting on the pretext of returning some colours that had belonged to some bikers who had been killed. Damien was cordial and offered him a beer. The Toad was not pleased and voiced his objection in a thick French accent. An accent that Jack soon hoped to mimic.

      Jack now saw that the two underlings each carried a sports bag.

      Jack smiled. Very expensive sports bags.

      The Toad entered one room while his two cohorts entered the room beside it. Moments later, The Toad opened his door and Jack saw one of the other two bikers behind him. It was obvious that their rooms had an inside adjoining door.

      Two hours later, Jack saw an old beat-up white van with tinted rear windows slowly drive through the motel parking lot. The curtains moved slightly in The Toad’s room as someone peeked out.

      The two men inside the van paid close attention to all the other parked cars.