Cracked Page 22

  “She was blackmailing him,” I said.

  Jack nodded. “I know that now,” he said. “It was all just starting. It was after I left that the drugs happened, and… all the rest of it.” Jack looked around for the waitress.

  “And now they’re after you,” I said. “Michael’s after you.”

  “Ten thousand a day, Danny,” Jack said. “That’s what I’m paying to keep the boys alive.” He gazed at me. “I left. I left and didn’t look back, and I know that man wants me dead. But he hasn’t finished milking me yet.”

  For one wild and shameful moment, I thought about how much crack ten thousand dollars would buy. Enough for oblivion.

  “Why did they keep me alive?” I wanted to know. “Why didn’t they kill me when they killed Dominic?” I had filled Jack in on my adventure at the Sunny Jim.

  “For me, I think,” he said. “If you died, I’d just go after them. As much as I love the boys, I wouldn’t have been able to…” He stopped and shook his head.

  “Jack,” I said, and stopped. He was my husband. He was paying to keep the twins alive. I had a flashback to having sex with Miller in the hospital, and felt something like shame.

  “Where are the boys,” I said gently. “You said you knew.”

  He shook his head. “No, I didn’t. I know that Jeanette has them, and I know that they’re in Toronto, and I think I know where. But I’m not sure.” We were silent for a minute. “They want me back. Jeanette wants me back. Michael wants to take what I have, and come back into the fold, according to Jeanette. One big happy family again. When I saw Jeanette at Ginger’s she told me she had no idea where Michael was, hoped he was dead. I actually believed her.”

  I felt sick.

  “I broke Lola’s arm and nose yesterday,” I said conversationally.

  “Oh, Danny. This is not good for us,” he said. “Lola was like Jeanette’s little sister, the whole time we were with Michael. They had a special bond. This isn’t good,” he repeated. But at the same time, I could see that he was a little proud of me. I told him about the events of the last days. It felt so good to talk to him, to tell him everything. Almost everything.

  Jack motioned for the waitress. He ordered me another glass of wine, a Shiraz this time.

  “Sexist pig,” I said. “You didn’t even ask me.”

  “I always did know what you need, baby,” Jack said, in his Barry White voice. I laughed out loud.

  I looked at Jack, the man I had never stopped loving. I watched his face, the crinkles around his eyes, the funny dent in his head above his left ear. His big strong neck and shoulders. He wanted to know about how I got into crack. It wasn’t much of a story, and I told him.

  “Oh, the old story,” I said. “Girl leaves marriage, very sad, starts drinking too much at neighborhood watering hole, meets fun new friends who do cocaine. Then fun new friends start doing crack, and girl doesn’t see how she can hurt herself any further, so she jumps down the rabbit hole. She thinks she can climb back out anytime she wants. She can’t.”

  Jack grunted. He wanted to know if I was seeing anybody.

  Miller? Gene? I didn’t know what to say to Jack about either of them.

  “By your pause, I am guessing yes,” Jack said. “Who’s the lucky guy?” He looked out the window casually, as though we were discussing the weather. I could see a muscle in his temple twitch.

  I decided to leave Miller out of the equation. “I have a friend,” I said. “Not what you think, but not exactly not either,” I said. I looked at Jack. I believed him, of course I did. I wanted to. But what would Jeanette have to gain by beating Gene to a bloody pulp? “He’s in the hospital,” I ventured.

  “Overdose?” Jack asked, not without a bit of bitterness.

  “No,” I said. I told him about Gene being tied to my bed, about his face, and having to have his spleen removed. Jack listened, as only Jack could do.

  “I’m sorry, Danny,” Jack said. “I’m sorry for you, but not for him. Is he the one who got you started?” Into the life, he meant.

  “What does it matter?” I said. I wished someone would clear the table. I’d only had a few bites, despite my appetite, and now the meat looked extra bloody, whilst we were talking about Gene in the hospital. “Did you have something to do with this?”

  “No,” he said. “Why would I bother beating some crackhead?”

  Some crackhead. “Good point,” I said. “Low-life, right? He got what was coming to him.”

  “That’s not for me to judge,” he said. “But if it was this guy who got you hooked on crack, I’m not sorry he’s in the hospital.”

  “You got me hooked on crack, Jack,” I said. The waitress was at the table to take the plates away. She picked them up and moved quickly. She couldn’t wait to get to the bar and fill the staff in on the new development. “Dealing with you. I needed to escape.”

  Jack stayed still for a second, then grinned. “Ever hear of Florida?” he said. “Or Hawaii?” I laughed.

  “What do we do now?” I said. Somehow, I had come here ready to kill Jack to get information on the boys, and now he was my ally. I didn’t second guess myself about it, either. It felt right.

  “Let’s go up to my room and discuss it,” Jack said. He didn’t look to me like he wanted to do any more discussing.

  “Okay,” I said, grabbing my purse and standing up. “But don’t use too many big words. I haven’t had many discussions in a while.”

  “It’ll come back to you,” Jack said, and motioned for the check.

  And it did.

  22

  Jack and I fell asleep, after. The heavy drapes kept out the daylight. The bed was glorious. I was feeling a twinge of something like happiness. I was feeling like I was back where I belonged. Next to Jack.

  But Ginger was gone, and we had to get the boys.

  When I woke up, the clock said it was nearly six p.m. I hadn’t called Darren today, or Dave, who was probably still waiting anxiously in my apartment. Jack was still sleeping, snoring his profound rattling snore. It was like white noise to me. I curled up around him and closed my eyes, wishing that I could erase the last couple of years. I started crying then, for all the mistakes I’d made. For Jack, who had endured unimaginable pain due to the demons in his brain and the devils in his past. But especially for Ginger, who had jumped down into the abyss after me. Whether she was being led there by Jeanette Vasquez or pushed by Fred, or maybe just to get away from her own pain, I might never know.

  Jack woke up and pulled me tight into him. I cried myself out while he stroked my hair.

  “I kind of like this dark mop,” he said. “Suits you.”

  We lay in silence for a while. “I’m paying money into a Toronto bank account,” he said. “That’s one of the reasons I know she’s here.”

  She. Jeanette. My evil twin. She had found her way into our bed.

  “I hired some people to find out where she is,” he continued.

  “People?” I echoed.

  “People,” he said firmly. Case closed on that one. “But I don’t want them going in, guns blazing.”

  “The boys might get hurt,” I said. I sat up. “Jack.”

  Jack pulled me back down and curled himself around me again. I let my mind wander, allowing myself to enjoy where I was, trying to forget the sound of Lola’s arm breaking, or the feeling of Dom’s blood squishing under my feet.

  And Miller. I would think about Miller later.

  We talked a little, small talk. We both knew we had to get up and go. We just drew it out a few minutes longer. I told him about Irene’s mother being sick. Then I told him I had to call Darren, and Jack got up and went into the shower, telling me to give his best to my brother. They’d always gotten along, until Darren got a little overprotective of me when Jack went nuts.

  I sat up in bed and phoned Fred and Ginger’s number. Rosen answered on the first ring.

  “Lindquist residence,” he said, in his neutral accent.

  “It’s D
anny,” I said.

  “People are worried about you,” Rosen said quietly. “You left your apartment six hours ago.”

  “But who’s counting. I’m fine,” I said. I wasn’t sure what to tell him. “Can I speak to my brother, please?” Rosen didn’t argue. Darren was obviously close by.

  I told Darren everything. Well, not everything, but he got the gist.

  “So right now, it’s all about finding Jeanette Vasquez,” he said slowly.

  “Yes,” I said. “She’s got the boys. I’m sure of it.”

  I heard the shower shutting off, and Jack singing “My Way.”

  We were silent for a second. “How’s Gene?” Darren asked.

  “I have to call and check,” I said. “I’m going to do that right now.”

  “With Jack there?”

  “Not much choice,” I said.

  “You sure he’s okay? Jack, I mean?” Darren said.

  “Pretty sure. Pretty very sure,” I said, smiling as Jack came out in a Four Seasons white dressing gown, looking very pleased with himself.

  Darren told me that Detective French was conscious, and remembered me belting her, but nothing else. There was a warrant for my arrest.

  But nothing, he said, about the incident at Lucky’s.

  “I don’t know who to trust,” I said.

  “Whom,” Darren said, and I cursed at him. It was like nothing had changed. It made me feel good. I told him I’d call him right after finding the boys. I told him that would be tonight. I knew it. I felt it.

  I put the phone down and took a drink from Jack. He was having a Coke.

  “What now?” he said.

  “I have to call the hospital,” I said. “Sorry.”

  “’S’okay,” Jack said. “I just had my way with you. I guess I can be generous to the poor sap in the hospital.”

  He kissed me, and it was like the last few years hadn’t happened. But they had, and I had to deal with it. We both did.

  I got through to the front desk at Toronto General, and asked for the status of a patient named Eugene Gold. The operator put me on hold, and I listened to a public service announcement about hand washing. It said you were supposed to wash your hands for the amount of time it would take to sing “Happy Birthday.” Useful. A couple of minutes later, a woman came on the line and identified herself as Mona. Said she was a nurse in Intensive Care.

  “Intensive Care?” I said.

  “What is your relation to Mr. Gold?” she asked.

  “I’m his, you know. Friend,” I said. Jack got up and washed his hands. I didn’t hear him singing “Happy Birthday.”

  Mona sighed. “Mr. Gold has contracted an infection,” she said. “Doctors are keeping him unconscious until it can be cleared.”

  “Is he going to be all right?”

  “We certainly hope so,” she said. She told me that I could call back in the morning and check on his condition, then she hung up. When Jack emerged from the bathroom, I told him what Mona had said.

  “Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy,” he said.

  “Come on,” I said. “Gene is good people. He’s just damaged. You can afford to be emotionally generous. All I’ve ever wanted is you.” Then hot tears started down my face. It was all too much. I wanted to get back into bed with Jack and forget it all. Ginger had said in her note, “find Jack.” I knew now that she meant because Jack was the key to all this. But I also knew that she loved him, and when he got so sick she was one of the only people in his life to stick by him. She wanted me to be with Jack, as long as he was well. And he was well. Other than the horror we were dealing with, he seemed healthy and composed.

  Jack and I would do this. We would get the boys. I would kill Jeanette. Or maybe I wouldn’t have to now. Maybe it would be enough that she goes to jail. Would Ginger really want me to have all this violence on my soul? Then Jack and I could be together again. He was medicated and fine. And as it turned out, a lot of his paranoia back in the day was actually real. What was the old line? Is it paranoid if they really are out to get you? And if I had Jack, I wouldn’t need crack. I actually laughed out loud.

  Jack was coming over to me, a smile on his face, when his phone rang. We looked at each other, and Jack snatched my hand away before I picked it up.

  “Yes,” he said. I watched his face. He was listening.

  “Thanks. I’ll take care of it,” he said, and hung up.

  “We’re on,” he said. “Jeanette is in position, alone with the twins.”

  “We’re going to get them?”

  “Yes, Danny. We’re going to get them.”

  Jack pulled out some clothes from his suitcase, and motioned for me to get dressed.

  “Do you know how to shoot that gun in your purse?”

  “How did you know?” I said. Jack smiled at me.

  “Danny,” he said. “You kept it in your lap when we were in the bar. And look at it.” I did. It was thrown on a chair in the room, and through the fabric of the too-small purse, the outline of something hard and gun-sized was apparent.

  “Oh,” I said. “I was good at target shooting when I was a kid.”

  “That was long ago and far away,” he said. “You have a lot to learn, babycakes. And I have approximately half an hour to teach you.”

  My second gun lesson of the day. A record.

  * * *

  Jack picked up where Dave had left off in the morning. But I still didn’t get to shoot the thing. The Four Seasons tends to frown on guests shooting firearms in the hotel. An archaic rule.

  “Shouldn’t we call somebody?” I said. “You know. The police?”

  Jack shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t know who Jeanette has in her pocket. Or who’s in on this with her.” He pulled on some black pants and a black t-shirt. Commando gear. He looked like a bulked-up version of Rosen, actually.

  “This whole thing is a viper’s nest,” he said. “I want to make sure we get the boys out of there safely. After that, we can have every law enforcement agency in the western hemisphere on these people. And we will. But Jeanette is unstable. She has been manipulated and been manipulating, her entire life.” He was pacing a bit, which made me nervous. “That’s why I am going in. Just me. She wants me back. I’m going to get in, disable her, get the boys, get out.”

  Disable her. I’d love to disable her. I thought about Dave, back at my apartment. I told Jack about him. Despite Dave having saved Gene’s life, and my instinct that he was on side, Jack wasn’t convinced.

  “He had a gun on you, on Darren,” he said. “He sounds like he’s part of this, Danny. I really don’t know how deep this goes. Until all this started happening, I had made it my business to stay out of the way of Michael and any of these people. I could have had them investigated long ago, but I wanted it all out of my life, out of our lives. And look how that turned out.” He checked his ammo.

  “Look,” Jack continued. “I’m going to leave calling the police up to you. I guess it is unlikely Jeanette has many contacts here, but we can’t be sure. And I don’t know about this Dave. I don’t know who to trust.”

  “Whom,” I corrected.

  “Fuck you, babycakes,” Jack said, and I hugged him. “I need her to think that I’m coming after her because I’m in love with her, despite everything.”

  “Despite the fact that she’s charging you ten grand a day to keep your nephews alive.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Despite that. She’s playing that as though it’s all on Michael and she’s still his pawn. Listen. I might have to act the part.”

  “She’s going to be kissing you and shit, I suppose,” I said.

  “If I play my cards right,” he said. “Do you want the boys back or don’t you? You need to carry your gun and stay hidden. We’ll scout out the location, then you can wait outside and I’ll signal from the window if you should come in for the boys. Or call the cops.” So many variables. I suppose that’s what happens, when you’re dealing with highly damaged psychopaths.<
br />
  Jack gave me his cell phone, and instructed me not to answer any incoming calls. He set the phone to vibrate before he gave it to me.

  “Goody,” I said. “I have this, while you’re in there fucking Jeanette.”

  “I’m not going to fuck her,” he said. “I don’t think I could, anyway.”

  “Stud,” I said.

  We left the room half an hour before Jack was supposed to be at Jeanette’s hiding place, an old loft somewhere between Sheppard and Finch, off Yonge Street. Jack got his rental car, a black Escalade, out of the public parking lot next to the hotel. He was worth more than God these days, but he still wouldn’t let a valet park one of his cars.

  Traffic was ferocious, but Jack was one of those effortless drivers; smooth, calm, and with an unerring instinct for the best route. We drove up the Don Valley Parkway to Lawrence, then got off onto Avenue Road. On the way, Jack explained that he had learned to shoot in Bermuda, out of boredom, and because it was a skill he didn’t have yet. I knew there was more to it than that, that there was probably still an element of paranoia. I let it pass. But he didn’t have a gun with him in Toronto. It’s difficult to get a firearms licence in Canada, which is one of the reasons it’s named one of the best places in the world to live. It’s a peaceful society. I did not, however, feel that way now.

  We drove from Avenue Road to Yonge Street. We weren’t far from where D-Man lived, but I opted not to inform Jack of this. He might want to make a pit stop to give someone a beating to get his blood going.

  At Yonge and Sheppard, I looked out the window at the new movie theatres and trendy restaurants that had opened up in the neighborhood. When I first came to Toronto, the area was considered to be a no man’s land, strictly for new Asian immigrants and lower-income families. Now, trendsetters from downtown would occasionally make the twenty-minute subway ride from downtown to try one of the newly reviewed restaurants in the area. 1960s- and 70s-era apartment buildings were making way for overpriced condos and lofts. I was expecting Jeanette to have one of these places, but instead Jack kept driving a couple of blocks north, past the well-lit developments, and turned left onto a dark side street. There was a dingy bar on the corner, and a homeless shelter two doors down. A 24-hour convenience store was across the street. Other than that, there was no one on the street on a chilly November evening, and we were out of the trendy loop.