A Delicate Matter. Don Easton

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      A Delicate Matter

      

      Jack Taggart Mysteries

      Loose Ends (2005)

      Above Ground (2007)

      Angel in the Full Moon (2008)

      Samurai Code (2010)

      Dead Ends (2011)

      Birds of a Feather (2012)

      Corporate Asset (2013)

      The Benefactor (2014)

      Art and Murder (2015)

      Dedication

      To Piper and Kei … you weren’t forgotten

      Chapter One

      It was the second Wednesday in September and a sprinkle of rain caused many of the shoppers to quicken their pace as they went to and from their cars. Young moms were enjoying the freedom of having their children back at school, and this morning the mall parking garage in Surrey, British Columbia, was busy. For one man it was the ideal time to go hunting. He selected his prey and kept his head down so that the hoodie he wore hid his face.

      He guessed she was in her early thirties. Her raincoat was open, revealing an attractive figure, and her black hair cascaded over a white blouse. Her slacks were charcoal-coloured. She carried several shopping bags from high-end clothing stores. Expensive tastes … exactly the kind of snooty rich bitch I’m looking for.

      He approached her. She hesitated at the elevator beside the stairwell, then cast a glance in his direction. She turned and walked up the ramp in the parkade, taking the more visible and open route designed for cars.

      What’s the matter, bitch? Aren’t I your type? He felt the blood surge in his groin and took the stairs two at a time to the second level, then eyed her through the glass pane in the door. She had one hand rummaging through her purse, probably seeking her keys, while she continued walking to the third level. He scampered up the stairwell again and saw her stop at the end of a row of cars and hold out a key fob. The trunk to a white Lexus obediently opened and she bent over to tuck her packages inside.

      He pulled the drawstrings on his hoodie tight around his face as he crept toward her. He was within a couple of steps before he saw her body momentarily freeze, then spin around, her eyes riveted on his. He gave an evil grin when her gaze shifted down to his open fly and his engorged penis.

      “How ’bout you bend over again and I pack this in your trunk, bitch!”

      The woman looked curiously at his penis. “Why is it so tiny?”

      “What?” he spluttered as his penis promptly wilted. “What did you say?”

      “Is your problem achieving an erection due to feelings of insecurity around women? Do you only achieve physical gratification and a feeling of empowerment over a woman if she displays fear — or are you hoping to arouse me?”

      His eyebrows furrowed. “You whore!” he snarled, stepping forward with his fist raised.

      “I don’t mind if you talk dirty to me.” Her voice had turned sultry. “I’ve fantasized about this moment. Hoping it would happen.”

      He stopped. “You have?” He lowered his fist.

      “Yes,” she answered while rummaging in her purse again. “Would you like to join me in the back seat of my car?”

      “Are … are …,” he stuttered before finding the words. “Are you serious?”

      “Definitely. I hope you’re into bondage,” she added, taking a set of handcuffs from her purse.

      He heard a van door slide open two spaces down and turned to see a couple of men leap out. He looked back at the woman. The cuffs were gone and she was pointing a pistol at him.

      “You’re under arrest!” she yelled. “Put your hands over your head!”

      “You fucking bitch!” he screamed, ignoring her command and running for the ramp. When he saw other police officers closing in on him, his mouth fell open in panic.

      Seconds later Constable Sophie White’s jaw also went slack when her suspect ran to the edge of the parkade, gave a glance back, then leaped over the side of the retaining wall. She, along with her colleagues, rushed to the wall and looked down. Three storeys below, the culprit lay sprawled face down on the sidewalk.

      “Think he’s dead?” one of the officers asked in a tone that showed his indifference.

      “Maybe,” Sophie replied. “Glad he didn’t land on anyone.”

      As they watched, the culprit squirmed and rolled over onto his side.

      “Nope, guess we don’t need the coroner,” Sophie said, taking a portable radio out of her purse.

      The culprit managed to stand on one leg. After a few failed attempts to put his other foot down, he started to hop away.

      Sophie rolled her eyes, then clicked the transmit button.

      Constable Chuck Field was in a car near the parkade exit when he received the call.

      “Field, we tried to arrest our man,” Sophie radioed, “but he leaped over the wall on the opposite side of the building from where you are. Drive around and pick him up. We’ve got the eye from up here.”

      “You got it.”

      The sound of screeching tires echoing up from the street said that Field would not take long. His voice crackled over the radio again. “What’s he look like?”

      “If you see a guy hopping down the street on one leg with his dick hanging out, that’ll be him.”

      Chapter Two

      Corporal Jack Taggart drove into the parking lot of the Steinhouse Pub in Port Coquitlam. The pub was about a forty-minute drive from Vancouver, where he worked undercover for the Intelligence unit of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police.

      He was driving a black SUV with tinted windows. Constable Laura Secord, who was both his partner and subordinate, sat beside him. Today her long auburn hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she wore a green rain jacket over blue jeans and a denim shirt.

      Jack had shoulder-length hair and a bushy beard that was showing a hint of grey. He wore a black T-shirt under an open brown kangaroo jacket and black jeans.

      Both Jack and Laura had received special training by the RCMP to work undercover. Their assignment was to combat organized crime. At the top of their list was Satans Wrath, a motorcycle gang involved in drug trafficking, prostitution, murder, and a host of other criminal activities.

      Satans Wrath had developed over the years into a sophisticated criminal empire with seventy chapters in forty countries around the globe. It had, for the most part, insulated itself from its criminal activities by using other gangs as middlemen. Satans Wrath would use a puppet club to do its dirty work for a few years, after which some puppet-club members might be selected to join Satans Wrath. At that time the remainder of the puppet club would soon find it in its best interests to disband. In September, during the Labour Day ride, it was noted that the Gypsy Devils had been invited to tag along.

      Bikers wear their club logo, called their “colours,” on the backs of sleeveless jackets, which for the Gypsy Devils was a skull adorned with a green bandana and a black patch over one eye. The name of the club, or the “top rocker,” was above the skull, while the “bottom rocker” beneath denoted the area they’re from. For the Gypsy Devils it simply read “Poco,” to denote Port Coquitlam.

      Satans Wrath colours bore a full face-on skull with horns, purple eyes, and a sinister grin. Their bottom rockers bore the