Chapter 20 #2
“Except if I’m hauling a can to the curb.”
I’d have suggested he wait till morning, but our trash collection came by around six-thirty a.m. and neither of us would want to get up early. I climbed to my feet. “Okay. You take care of that, and then maybe we’ll take the suit porn to my room where I can really enjoy the sight of you.”
Callum grabbed my chin and delivered a fast, hard kiss. “Will do. Don’t lose my place.”
He zipped up, leaving his belt dangling, and left the room. I wandered to the window to watch as he came into view, his strides athletic and powerful. That suit was still a winner.
As Callum reached the garbage bin beside the garage, movement to the left caught my eye.
A dark sedan pulled over at the curb, parked, and cut its lights.
The door opened but the dome light didn’t come on.
Without stopping to think, I grabbed my holstered weapon off the floor, sprinted for the kitchen door, and let myself out into the night.
I shook the holster off my Glock, leaving the leather behind in the grass, and raised my weapon as I stalked forward.
Digging my phone out lefthanded was a bit trickier, but I got it and swiped to the camera with my thumb, starting a video.
When I reached the corner of the house, I paused, holding the camera forward and eyeing the screen.
A short man had gotten out of the car and was walking toward Callum, who’d paused halfway down the drive.
Ducking low, I eased around the corner of the house, keeping behind the bushes I should’ve trimmed weeks ago.
At first, I could only make out the murmur of words, but as I got nearer, phone held out, I heard the man’s low voice. “…why Wayne Fitzpatrick called me to say you had him arrested?”
Callum let the back of the bin thump to the driveway and stepped away from it. “He was asking for it. He stole my money. Your money.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Ten grand. That’s what you promised for losing the game.
I delivered the loss. He left me five thousand, and told me you’d lowered the price.
I figured you didn’t break bargains like that.
It’d be bad for business. I bet he skimmed it off the top, thinking neither of us would ever know the difference. ”
“And so you ran to the cops? Are you that suicidal?”
“What? I had him busted for stealing my truck. I didn’t tell them shit about the game or the money. He’ll go back to prison for violating parole. Sucks to be him.” Callum tilted his head. “Just so I know, you are still promising ten K for each loss, right? Not five?”
“I’m not making up the difference tonight. He’s your uncle, your problem.” The short man who had to be Smith took a step closer to Callum. “He said you were blowing the whistle on me. I hate snitches.”
I raised my weapon, aiming centre of mass, just in case. This was Canada. Not every two-bit punk had a gun, like in the States. But enough did that his furious tone made me tense.
Callum raised his chin. “I’m not an idiot. You have me cold. Two losses now, two payoffs. At this point, I might as well make decent money off it. When I’m in the NAPH, the payout will go up, right? I’m not risking a million-dollar salary for ten grand.”
“You’ll take what I give you. But if you’re playing for a top team, we’ll negotiate something reasonable.”
“Negotiate.” Callum laughed with a bitter edge. “Like I had any choice here. Okay. Ten grand for now. What’s the next game?”
“Huh?”
“Next loss. Get with the program, dude.” Callum snapped his fingers at Smith.
I gritted my teeth. Don’t antagonize the criminal. But this was Callum. He could no more keep his mouth shut than a pig could fly.
He continued, “If I’m going to throw games, I might as well rake in the cash. So which one’s next?”
Smith drew himself up to his limited height. “I’ll let you know. Has to be a game you’re very likely to win, to make it worth my while.”
“We’ll need a way to keep in contact, now Uncle Wayne’s in the slammer.”
“I will text you. You do nothing unless I tell you. Hear me?”
Callum cocked his head. “You want me to withdraw the stolen car complaint? Let you deal with Uncle Wayne? I wonder where he put the five thousand.”
“Already in someone else’s hands, I’m sure. Addicts are always a risk. No, let him rot where he is.” Smith backed away. “And keep your mouth shut. If I get even a hint that you’ve gone to the cops…”
He was headed toward the driver’s side of the parked car, which reduced my concern he had a second guy with him. Without seeing his licence plate, and with the video a dark blur, I didn’t want him getting away. Calculated risk.
I straightened up, my weapon aimed. “Police! Freeze! Right there!”
Smith glanced back and forth between me and the car, judging his chances. Then he turned to me and smiled. “I think there’s been some mistake, Officer.”
“Yeah, yours!” Callum snapped. “I recorded all of that.”
“I think you misinterpreted. I said nothing illegal.”
“Sure,” I said. “Tell that to the GREC. Hands up.”
“What?”
“You heard me. Put your hands above your head. Now!”
Grudgingly, he obeyed me.
“Right. Now walk over to that red car in the drive. Not yours. Turn to face it. Put your hands on the roof.”
“You’re making a mistake. I have friends in the department.”
“I’m sure they’ll be denying it left and right. Walk forward.” I took a step toward him. “Callum, call Iverson.”
Smith grudgingly walked over to Callum’s car and set his palms on the roof above the passenger door.
I closed the distance. “Feet farther back. You know the position.” I kicked at one of his shoes. “Farther.”
“I’ll be lodging a complaint.”
“You do that.” I patted him down, reassured to find that he wasn’t armed. With Callum on the phone behind me, I pulled Smith’s wallet from his pocket and flipped it open. “Ronald Shoemark. No wonder you picked Smith. Hey, Callum, tell Iverson we have a Ronald Shoemark for him to check out.”
Callum did, then came up beside me, saying, “Okay… Got it,” into his phone. He hung up and told me, “Iverson says he knows the guy and don’t let him get away.”
“He’s not going anywhere.”
Shoemark twisted to look over his shoulder. “My back’s killing me. I need to stand up.”
“You can move your feet forward,” I told him. “But if you take your hands off the car, I’ll shoot you.”
We stood there for several silent, awkward minutes until the first black-and-white roared up the street toward us, siren blaring. The uniformed officers hurried over, and I showed them my ID, had them put cuffs on Shoemark and read him his rights.
Behind me, Jos called, “Hey? I heard sirens. What’s going on?”
I turned and spotted him standing on our front porch in his bare feet. “We’re fine, Jos. No one’s hurt. Go on inside and I’ll explain later.”
Roy swung his front door open. “Callum? You okay, son?”
“I’m fine.” Callum glanced back and forth from Jos to his grandfather. “Maybe you could go keep Jos company, till we get things straightened out?”
“I’d appreciate it, Roy,” I agreed.
“Let me get some shoes.” Roy ducked inside, then came out in a light jacket with his bare feet stuffed into sneakers.
He crossed the lawn toward me, taking in the flashing lights, the handcuffed man, the uniformed officers, and the gun I was still holding, since I’d left the holster behind. “You sure everything’s okay?”
“Fine, I promise. Let Jos know there was no violence. We caught a guy who was… stealing money. That’s all. We’ll be inside in a bit.”
“Can do.” He climbed my front steps slowly, and paused, his head close to Jos’s. I couldn’t hear what he said, but Jos let himself be steered inside.
I took advantage of having relinquished the prisoner to jog around to the back door, find my holster, and get the weapon strapped on and out of my hand.
When I returned to the front, another patrol car was pulling over, lights but no siren.
I went to stand by Callum, bumping him with my shoulder, as the uniformed officers conferred. “Feel safe now?” I murmured.
“I’ve felt safe since the moment you rose up out of the bushes like the Loch Ness Monster,” he muttered.
The adrenaline that had shortened my breath gave way to laughter.
A ping on his phone had him checking messages. “Iverson says someone from his office is on their way.”
“About time.”
Ten minutes later, a sharply dressed woman from the GREC showed up and took charge of the scene.
After viewing my video, while Shoemark protested he hadn’t done anything, not even trespassing, since a driveway was public access, the agent slapped me on the back.
“Good work.” She turned to the other officers.
“Take him in and book him. Start with the Gaming Act, Section 94.” She pulled out her phone and turned away, calling for forensics to come check and tow his car.
Callum said to her, “You seem to be taking this awfully seriously, for a crime you could barely be bothered with four days ago.”
She looked him over. “You’re Fitzpatrick?”
“Yes.”
“Well, your little situation’s barely the tip of the Shoemark iceberg. A lucky break, though, because if the evidence stands up like it should, we can subpoena his electronics and his office, and a whole buffet of information will come our way.” She sounded decidedly eager at that possibility.
“I was recording, too.” Callum touched his lapel button. “Iverson had a subpoena for this voice recorder.”
“Even better.” She dug an evidence bag out of her pocket. “Pass it over.”
“Uh.” I grabbed Callum by the wrist and pulled him aside. Wrapping my palm around the button on his chest to try to muffle it, I whispered, “You were wearing that inside? In my study? When we…” I gestured back and forth between us.
“Yeah? Oh. Fuck!”
We eyed each other. I tried frantically to remember what I’d said and done. Not a full blowjob, thank God, but I’d gone to my knees saying something about suit porn. No video, but I’d bet the audio was bad enough.
Then Callum started laughing, genuinely although with a little hysterical edge underneath. “Good thing I’m kind of out now, huh? Oh, my God.”
I had to laugh too, probably sounding equally off-balance. “At least your coworkers won’t be listening to you.”
He snorted and grabbed my shirtfront. “Fuck, yeah. I’d be chirped till the end of time.” Then he sobered. “We probably have to turn the recording in. Will it be a problem for you?”
I shrugged and got my hand back over the button, pressing hard as I said, “They know I’m gay. If they can’t handle direct evidence…” I didn’t say, “Fuck them,” in case sounds were making it through, but I let my eyes show my disdain. “I don’t care who knows I’m with you.”
Callum bent his head and brushed the lightest of kisses to my lips. “Me neither.” He walked back to the GREC agent and unclipped the button. “Here you go.”
We both watched her tuck the voice recorder in the bag, label it, and sign the outside. “I’ll need your phone, too,” she told me.
I could hardly argue with that, but it was going to be a pain in the ass. Worth it, though, to watch the weight of this case come off Callum’s shoulders.
“Could be worse,” Callum murmured to me. “There could be a sex tape.”
I handed over my phone, then wrestled my too-tall boyfriend into a headlock and noogied his pretty red hair. He pushed me off, laughing. I wished I still had my phone to capture that look in his eyes.