The Last Hand (23 page)

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Authors: Eric Wight

BOOK: The Last Hand
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“Sorry.”
“As I keep saying, I think there was more to it than Flora. On the Thursday, our regular meeting day—Friday was unusual—are we coming back to that?”
“Yes, but finish Thursday.”
“He was agitated about Cane. Told me he had to go see him. I assumed it was about his sister, but he said it was much more important than that, that Cane had his fingers in everything and it was going to get very messy. He was afraid he would have to do something that would look bad, his motives he meant, but he couldn't help that. There were more than just Jerry and his sister involved.”
“Who?”
“You never met Jerry, did you? He didn't talk shop, ever. No confidences in bed, that's for sure. What he told me was that he had to see Cane about something that went beyond his sister.”
“He didn't mention any names?”
“Like who?”
“Read the menu. I'll make a list.”
Salter took out a pen and recreated the poker game, naming all
the players. He got them all just as she looked up. The waitress took their order and when she left, Salter said, turning the paper napkin around so she could see what he had written, “Do any of these look familiar?”
“Bonar Robinson, Craig Lister, Scott Mercer, Brian Davis, Andrew Cutler, Larry Holt–they were all his poker pals.”
“Except for Holt, they were also Cane's victims, like Flora Lucas. Did he mention any of them that night? Or anyone else?”
“No, no. I've heard of all of these, of course. They all lost money because of Cane, did they? But it wasn't a big deal for them. I think I remember Jerry being involved in keeping their names out of the news, along with Calvin Gregson.”
“Did they talk together, Lucas and Gregson?”
“Of course. Both of them were working on Flora's behalf.”
Then the obviousness of it hit him. “Gregson and Flora Lucas?”
“Oh, shit, you didn't know? Well, you would have heard about it soon.”
“But Gregson is a Tory?”
“And Flora is a Liberal. Interesting, isn't it? I think he's going to hand in his party card and work for her. Jerry said Gregson wouldn't give her up even if she were a Trotskyite.”
“They were in Costa Rica together?”
“Gregson answered the phone when Jerry called his own house down there about this Cane thing.”
“Well, well. Well, well, well, well, well. Nothing to do with me, though. I'm surprised, given Lucas's reputation for being discreet, that he would say anything at all to you about this.”
“We were lovers. Lovers have to tell each other
some
secrets or they don't trust each other. In Jerry's case, interesting but nonlegal secrets.”
“Which brings me back to my first question. Again, I'm sorry to be such a …”
“Oh, never mind. What was I doing in that outfit on a Friday night, you want to know. Does it matter?”
“If we find this guy.”
“
If?
”
“
When
we find him.”
“Will it be long?”
“As soon as I have everything lined up. In the meantime, when his lawyer examines my case, he will enter a plea of not guilty. Now a standard response of a criminal lawyer in this kind of case is to find someone else equally suspect who the police have apparently overlooked. It won't take him long to find out about you. Before then, I want a case so solid that it will be a waste of his time. So tell me about the silver boots.”
“They were a joke. We used to have fun. Jerry was a larky guy, off duty. There was nothing sweep-them-off-their-feet-about him. I had no illusions about why we got together. We had things in common including sex. We went to bed one night, liked it, and then arranged to do it regularly.” She paused and leaned back to allow the waitress to set the food in front of them.
“What about your husband?” Salter asked, when the waitress left.
“My husband had nothing to do with it, or with your problem.” She waited for a response, and when Salter shrugged, she continued, “You want to know about the boots. I said, they were a joke. I bought them and borrowed a wig. All the rest I had or adapted from my own stuff. The idea was I would do a sort of ‘Avon calling,' you know, flash him when he opened the door. “Hello, Stranger. Looking for a good time?”
“The deputy chief guessed something like that. Did it turn Lucas on?”
“It was a
joke
!”
“Sorry. That was it? Why Friday, by the way? Your regular night was Thursday, you say.”
“Our regular night was Thursday, but we met on other nights sometimes, when I had a good excuse, and Jerry didn't have tickets to a concert. That night James said he had to meet a client in King City and he would be late. I immediately checked with Jerry. He was free, so I told James I would go to a movie, and the rest is …”
“But James didn't go to King City.”
“He was setting a little trap. He had long ago guessed I was having an affair, so he followed me.”
“And now?”
“This is no business of yours, either, is it? But as a matter of fact
he has been very supportive. I told him the whole story and together we decided not to come to you with it unless we had to. This is getting cold.” She picked up her knife and fork and started to cut up her steak.
“I've never been here before,” she said. “It's good. Discreet.” She grinned.
Salter smiled and set his plate aside. “Now that you've had a chance to brood, did Lucas tell you he was expecting someone later? No? Did you see anyone on your way in or out that you knew?”
“As I was standing in Jerry's doorway, waiting to flash him, a guy got out of the elevator and stared at me. I thought he'd seen the costume, as he probably had, so I put my hand in my raincoat pocket to pull it round me as a kind of screen. My memory is that he went off down the corridor, but I was too busy with Jerry to notice. It was probably just a tenant, surprised to see a tart in the building. Did anyone complain?”
“What did he look like?”
“Like a thousand other guys. I nearly said john.' Professional-looking, an accountant or a lawyer, grey hair, his clothes fit properly. That's all I noticed.”
“One last one. What did you do with the costume?”
“It's in a garbage can downtown somewhere. My husband got rid of it because I was panicking. So he drove down to Jarvis street and dumped it. He thought it would give you a problem.”
The waitress came. Salter paid the bill and they walked down the street. “Shall I walk you home?” Salter asked.
“Where are you parked?”
“Near Avenue Road.” He pointed up Woodlawn.
“I need a few minutes after you've gone, before I talk to James. Who is at home and knows all about
us
.” She grimaced. “And is as puzzled as I was as to why you should buy me dinner. I'll leave you here. I've got a good exit line.”
“Say it.”
“You know who did it, don't you?”
“You always know, but half the time you're wrong. Yes, I know.”
 
 
To Smith, he said, “She got a good look at him and he was afraid she could identify him. So he went along Jarvis Street, looking for her. Remember what your girls told you?”
“To kill her? Shut her up?”
“He was hoping to bribe her, I would guess.”
T
he first call came at nine-thirty the next morning, from a prison warden who told him that Harry Cane had just received the phone call that Salter had expected, from a Mr. Lucas, and that Cane had gotten permission to meet Lucas that afternoon at two-thirty.
“
Mister
Lucas? Mr. Lucas is dead. Was it a male voice?”
“Hang on a minute. Yep, no doubt about it.”
“How long are visitors allowed to stay?”
“An hour in this case.”
“Here's what I want you to do for me. When he arrives, park him in an awkward spot, then block him in so it takes him fifteen minutes to get free. Just in case the meeting doesn't last very long. Then get his license number and call me with it right away.”
Next he called the Ontario Provincial Police, who agreed to have an unmarked car follow “Lucas” when he came out of the prison, and accompany him to Toronto, there to hand him over to the Metro Police. Bayview was his most likely exit from the highway, but Salter arranged for cars to be at Yonge Street and Avenue Road as well, in case ‘Lucas' had an eccentric reason for using one of those to enter the city.
“Nearly ready,” Salter told Smith as he put down the phone. “He's using an alias-‘Lucas,' the guy he killed.”
“Should I be making a note in case you suffer a sudden cardiac arrest, sir? You are over sixty, and I have no idea what the hell you are up to.”
“Then listen. Yesterday I had dinner with Puss-in-Boots, just to cross her off our list—she was never on mine—and she confirmed all we already know and added a rough description that fits our man.”
“Who would that be? In case of your sudden death. You know his name?”
“I think so. But I believe I'll keep it to myself until I've proved it. Puss-in-Boots, by the way, is Louise Wilder, Lucas's mistress. Or lover. Lucas wasn't paying her. They used to meet on Thursday once a month under cover of a book-group meeting they were supposed to be attending, and on any odd nights they were both free and Wilder's husband was out of town.”
“What were the boots and the bum-freezer skirt all about?”
“They were part of a joke she was playing.”
“Not a turn-on, then?”
“She says not. We have enough corroboration to tick her off the list.”
“I don't think I'd go that far from what you've told me, sir.”
“She didn't do it, Smitty. Look, yesterday I went to the jail and I talked to Cane for about an hour. He thought I was trying to find out why Lucas had visited him.”
“You already knew why?”
“I think so. But it's got to come from him, the horse's mouth. All the time I talked, I wanted to make one thing clear, that we were getting close, and bound to get there soon. And I threatened to charge him with lack of cooperation, which would affect his parole.”
“Is that kosher?”
“I doubt it, but I won't stick around for a reprimand. Cane stuck to his story, that Lucas was concerned only about his sister. I just wanted to get him going, give him a chance to think about it, which he did, and after I left, he changed his mind. He'd been loyal so far, but it was time to tell Mr. X, just in case
he
was the killer—which Cane didn't know—that he, Cane, planned to rat on everybody in a day or two because the police were breathing down his neck, and as long as they had Cane fingered, then he was going to be a good boy and cooperate. I'm guessing all this, but something like it is going down because right now, Cane is expecting a visit from Lucas …”
“But Lucas is
dead
.”
“He's a code word now. The visitor doesn't want to sign in under his own name. Cane has told him how we found Lucas's name in the visitor's book, and he's panicking. Looking for a name to write in the visitor's book, Lucas is the first that jumps into his head.”
“And you know who it is.”
“They are going to call in his license number when he arrives. Then I'll be sure.”
“Mr. Fury called, by the way, asked you to call back as soon as possible.”
 
 
Fury said, “I want to show you something. I don't want to say more over the phone. You people tape everything. Can you come over now?”
“Should I?”
“Yes.”
 
 
The folder, blue, an inch thick, was tagged with the Lucas name, this time that of Beryl, Jerry Lucas's mother.
“You know that Holt looked after Beryl Lucas's affairs?” Fury was trembling, but Salter could not tell why.
“And he's milked her. There's no money left. Right?”
“Not quite. The sum in the bank account is about what one would expect to find, but some other things one would expect to find are missing. It is impossible to trace the month-by-month growth, or the year-by-year toward the final figure.”
“There's a backup file, maybe. That file was simply physically too big.”
“You don't know what the hell you are talking about. A file that grew too big would simply be split by period. You would not weed out important material and put it somewhere else. The accountants found the answer. Although the final figure was consistent with the opening balance and several years of conservative investing, in between, the amount of money dipped much lower, twice nearly to zero, then it was topped up, most recently just before Holt was to hand it over. The crooked bastard has been playing fast and loose with his
clients' money, Beryl's, and probably all his other clients', too. We'll soon know about the rest, but it is my gut instinct that Beryl Lucas's trust was topped up with money from Holt's other clients' accounts. Jesus Christ Almighty!”
“Did he expect to get away with it?”
“He had probably developed a last-days-in-the-bunker mentality.”
“I imagine Beryl's account was very low and Lucas found out about it.”
Fury had stopped trembling, and now turned white. “Larry Holt killed Jerry?” he whispered, his voice barely carrying across the desk. “I've been trying not to think it.”
“I'll be arresting him this afternoon. Keep that to yourself until you hear it on the news.”
Fury stood up. “I'm going home. Do you have my home number?” He pushed a card across the desk and stood up. “Esther,” he called, “I'm sick. I'm going home. If those accountants call, tell them I'll be notifying the Securities Commission tomorrow, and the Law Society. There's no hurry, I understand. Not anymore.” He turned to Salter. “How long have you known?”
“When I first met him he told me about a picture of Flora in Lucas's apartment. When the others told me that Lucas never invited anyone into his apartment, not the poker club nor the book group, I remembered that Holt
had
been inside. And it came back the night of the poker game, the night he ingratiated himself with me, even told me about the so-called practical joke they had planned. I wasn't really suspicious of any other of Lucas's card-playing pals, but Holt's behavior that night stuck in my head.
“After that he kept cropping up as the one who
wasn't
involved. Why wasn't he part of the little syndicate that Cane swindled? The answer is that he was mixed up in Cane's losses, but so deeply that he couldn't let it come out without someone wondering whose money he was using. So he made a deal with Cane to keep his name out of the case completely.”
“The accountants will find it eventually.”
“I think your partner had already found it. Now I have to go. Don't forget. Keep quiet until you hear the news.”
 
 
Gregson was next.
“How was Costa Rica, Calvin?”
Gregson rose in his chair, his face tight. “I don't know what the fuck you think you are doing, Salter. I was told someone was inquiring about me. Let me tell you, putting tabs on a citizen just for fun lays you open to some serious charges.”
“Up your ass, Calvin. Sit down and listen. You're here so I can help you, if I can. I knew what you were up to from the beginning. You were too involved. Naturally I was suspicious, so I did a routine check, proper police proceedure. To clear you. If you were that close to the sister you might have some reason to kill him I didn't know about. Never mind what I think, I have to check. So let's get on. This thing is nearly wrapped up and I thought you'd like an opportunity to keep that reporter happy. You know, the one we are all frightened of. You could give him an exclusive.” Salter gave Gregson a summary of the story. “I will arrest Holt this afternoon. I'll do it quietly, but even if he doesn't protest, if he confesses, he'll need advice, because he's not a real lawyer, is he? I mean he's never been involved with criminals.”
Gregson stirred himself. “I'll take care of him.”
“He doesn't have any money.”
“This too will be very public-spirited of me. His clients will want money and revenge, of course, and that the courts will have to deal with later. What about Cane?”
“I think Holt and Cane were still financially connected.”
“Involving anyone else?”
“I don't know.”
“But the clients will want to know what he did with the money.”
“Let me arrest him, see what he has to say.”

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