“Especially when I reminded him of what he’d called me.” Lane smiled.
“What?” Harper asked, immediately serious.
“Fudge-packer.”
“That’s not funny,” Harper said.
“You didn’t see his face.” Lane began to chuckle. “Always wanted to do that. You know, tell some macho man I was a cop after he made a homophobic remark. It felt great!”
“You two look a lot happier this morning.” Bryan slid their Kensington coffees onto the table.
“Oh, our lives are still in the toilet,” Harper said.
A customer called Bryan’s name and he left.
“Maybe not,” Lane said.
“How so?” Harper asked.
“Bobbie’s still our prime suspect. We just have to find Cole,” Lane said.
“Lately we haven’t had good luck finding live ones, in case you hadn’t noticed,” Harper said.
“There’s something different about this disappearance. Think about it. Cole wasn’t dragged away kicking and screaming. Cole went up that big hill to meet the person who took him away. It’s almost like Cole was being rescued. And Bobbie’s going wild. She was calm and cool when Kaylie disappeared. This time, she’s pounding on doors and bringing TV cameras. We need to get some answers from Jay. He seems to know the most about this case.”
“What about Charles’ sister, Denise?” Harper asked.
“Right now, Jay’s our best lead, and he’s hard to find,” Lane said.
“That’s why Steve is coming to meet us,” Harper said.
“Steve?”
“Steve Nguyen. He knows all there is to know about the Vietnamese community. He’ll have some answers. He’ll know who the lawyer, Tommy Pham, works for,” Harper said.
Bryan slid a couple of cinnamon buns onto the table. “On the house.”
“Nice,” Harper said.
Lane pulled out a ten dollar bill. “Sorry, we have to pay.”
“It’s a special today. Free cinnamon buns.” Bryan looked around the coffee shop.
Lane looked over his shoulder. The husband and wife near the fireplace were buttering their cinnamon buns and smiling at Bryan.
“Thanks,” Harper said.
Lane’s face reddened as he shoved the bill back in his pocket.
“Uncle Tran,” Bryan said.
“What?” Lane asked.
“Tommy Pham works for Uncle Tran. Everybody knows that,” Bryan said.
“You know this guy?” Harper asked.
Bryan said, “My parents think he’s some kind of saint. Came to Canada before the Vietnamese boatpeople started to arrive from the refugee camps. Helped get them settled. Got them places to live. Paid for their education. One of the first kids he put through school was Tommy Pham. Now Tommy handles all of Uncle Tran’s legal matters. Come on guys, you didn’t notice I’m Asian?” Bryan smiled and turned his head so they could better appreciate his profile.
Harper laughed.
Lane asked, “You know where we can find Uncle Tran?”
“Lucky Elephant Restaurant. In Chinatown. Look for the shortest guy there. It’ll be Uncle Tran. But treat him with respect. I’m not kidding. Man’s a saint,”
Bryan said.
A uniformed officer entered the coffee shop. “Here’s Steve,” Harper said.
Lane watched as recognition washed over Bryan’s face. He smiled at Steve. Lane thought, Bryan and Steve are well acquainted.
Steve, dressed in his blues, was more than six feet tall. His black hair was cut close. He adjusted the pistol on his hip and made no indication he knew Bryan.
“Good to see you, man.” Harper shook hands with Steve. “This is Lane.”
Harper smiled at Steve who did not smile back.
“Lane,” Steve said and shook hands with Lane before sitting down.
“Want a coffee?” Bryan asked.
“Black.” Steve didn’t look at Bryan.
Lane took it all in, sat back, and watched Steve as Bryan left. Steve really has his back up about something, Lane thought.
Harper glanced at his partner, then said, “We’re looking for information on a lawyer called Tommy Pham.”
“I know Tommy,” Steve said.
“Here’s your coffee.” Bryan’s bonhomie had evaporated. Steve took a sip, “Good stuff.”
“Can you help us?” Harper asked.
Steve said, “Man, you’re putting me in a tough spot.
We’re cops, but this is one hell of a favour. The guy you’re looking for put me and my sister through school. Got my mom started in her business.”
Harper waited.
Lane watched as Steve looked around the shop, checking out the clientele one by one.
“You don’t understand,” Steve said.
“Look, forget we asked. Enjoy your coffee. You and Harper have got some catching up to do. I’ve got a call to make.” Lane got up and left the table. He went to the back of the shop, pulled out his phone, and dialed. “Arthur?”
“Yes,” Arthur said.
“Just wanted to talk for a couple of minutes.” Lane watched Bryan, who kept an eye on all of the patrons except for Steve.
Steve avoided eye contact with Bryan.
“Martha made an appointment with a hairdresser to see what can be done in the way of damage control,”
Arthur said.
“How about you?” Lane watched Steve take a sip of coffee, get up, and shake hands with Harper.
“I’m fine. I don’t think the nose is broken, but it looks like I’ll have two black eyes,” Arthur said.
“Go see Dr. Keeler just in case.” Lane watched Steve leave. Harper looked at Lane and shrugged.
“Got an appointment before lunch,” Arthur said.
“Good. Looks like today might be a long one,”
Lane said.
“Bye,” Arthur said.
Lane walked back to the table and sat down to try another taste of cinnamon bun. “What the hell happened there?”
Harper said, “Beats me. Steve froze up like a lake in winter. It was totally out of character. I mean the guy usually talks my ear off. Man, I’m sorry.”
Lane looked over his shoulder. Bryan was behind the counter. The hissing steam of the expresso machine filled the shop. “Don’t be. Let’s drop in on Charles’ sister, Denise. You haven’t met her yet. She seems to know Bobbie really well. Maybe she knows something about Cole’s disappearance. Then we’ll go for lunch at the Lucky Elephant.”
It took fifteen minutes to reach the apartment across from Buckmaster Park. The sun was just up. It warmed their faces as they walked across the street, went downstairs, and knocked on Denise’s door.
She opened it after a minute. Denise had a cup of coffee in her right hand. Her left went to close the neck of her white blouse. “It’s cold. Come on in.” She backed up.
Lane thought Denise looked older than the last time they had met. The circles under her eyes were darker. Lane noticed the belt holding up her slacks was cinched two stops past the line worn in black leather.
The detectives crowded into the tiny apartment.
“Want a coffee?” Denise asked.
“No thank you. Just a couple of questions,” Lane said.
Denise leaned up against the frame of the kitchen doorway. “Want to look around?”
“Sure.” Harper stepped past her and into the bedroom. “You must want to know where Cole is. I wish I knew. He’s a good kid. Never said much, but he was always a kind kid,” Denise said.
“Was?” Lane asked.
“What do you think the chances are?” Denise’s voice was all at once resigned and bereft.
“Actually, I wanted to know if you’ve ever met Jay Krocker,” Lane said.