Authors: Anthony Bidulka
HIS STATEMENT SENT A SHIVER THROUGH ME. How
could this be? How could Daniel Guest have been
contacted by Loverboy in Saskatoon at the same
time I was with him in New York City? And, more
to the point, how could this happen now that
Loverboy was dead?
“When? How?” I blurted out.
“A note was hand-delivered to DGR&R some-
time on Friday morning. Before you ask, no one
remembers who delivered it or exactly what time
it arrived, but there was no postmark, so it wasn’t
mailed. The receptionist handled it like any other
message or package and it eventually ended up in
my in basket Friday afternoon.”
“Was the receptionist the only person who
could have seen the note delivered?”
“Well, not really, but I didn’t want to make a
big deal of it. I didn’t want to go around question-
ing everyone and getting them suspicious that
something weird was going on.”
“Something weird
is
going on, Daniel.”
“You know how I feel about involving the staff
here.”
“Okay, never mind that for now. What did the
note say?”
“Where is my money?” Daniel began, obvious-
ly reading. “Don’t be a fool. Send it now. Or else
life as you know it is over.” I couldn’t see it, but I
was betting all the words were written in caps.
318 — F l i g h t o f A q u av i t
I asked him to repeat it then let out a low whistle.
“Yeah,” he said, “Loverboy is mad.”
“I’d say so.”
“At first I was worried. That’s why I tried to
call you. And when I didn’t reach you and remem-
bered you’d gone to New York, I just thought, to
hell with it and wrote out a cheque.”
I nodded. Obviously James had somehow
orchestrated this last-ditch effort before he and I’d
met and before he’d put a gun to his head. “I’m
sorry this happened while I was away, Daniel.”
“Don’t be. I didn’t do it, Russell. I didn’t send
the cheque. I stopped myself. I remembered why I
didn’t pay in the first place. And I remembered
about the risks we talked about. Well, the day has
come. We expected this. I’m scared, y’know…but
exhilarated at the same time?” I could hear it in his
voice. “Does that make any sense at all?”
“Actually it does, Daniel. It does.” But it was
too late for heroic acts.
“So I suppose this means James Kraft, because
he’s living in New York City, is off the hook?” he
asked.
My mind was going crazy with possibilities.
James Kraft admitted to being Loverboy then
killed himself over it. Yet just days before he some-
how arranged to have another threatening letter
delivered to Daniel Guest’s office? Did it really
make sense?
Or…was Loverboy more than one person?
“I have something to tell you, Daniel.”
“What happened? Did he remember me? What
did he say?”
Anthony Bidulka — 319
“Daniel, James Kraft is dead.”
Silence.
“Daniel?”
“Yeah…How? When?”
I told him the story with a voice as devoid of
emotion as I could muster. James was a charming,
alluring, appealing young man who’d lost his life
way too early. But James was also Loverboy. A
blackmailer.
Or was he?
“So it’s over?” Daniel said dully when I was
finished.
“Maybe,” I answered.
“Maybe? Why maybe? Loverboy is dead.”
“It doesn’t add up, Daniel.” The more I
thought about it, the more I wasn’t buying the
whole thing. “Why would James send you a mes-
sage demanding the money, then two days later
kill himself?” I didn’t bother telling him the part
about my ring. But that too continued to bother
me. Would James go to the effort to wrap up the
ring and invite me over for what sounded like it
might be a romantic evening then commit suicide
just hours later?
“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Daniel said. “I don’t
want to make you feel responsible for his death or
anything, Russell, but think about it. He must
have figured out I wasn’t going to pay the fifty
thousand, so he sends the message, then you
show up, he figures the jig is up and he does him-
self in.”
I made a doubting sound. “I suppose that
could be true. But it sounds drastic to me. We both
320 — F l i g h t o f A q u av i t
met James. He was such a positive guy. He loved
life. I just can’t picture him killing himself over
this. Especially since I didn’t exactly present an
airtight case against him. I was bluffing. And he
knew it. And there’s more. The message you
received—it was
hand
delivered to your office.
Who delivered it? We know it couldn’t have been
James. He was in New York with me.”
“What are you saying? Are you saying someone
else was in on all of this with James? An accom-
plice? Are you thinking…this accomplice…Russell,
do you think someone killed James Kraft?” His
voice was definitely tinged with panic now.
“I don’t know, Daniel. I’m just saying it’s a pos-
sibility.” And indeed, at this terrible moment, the
possibilities seemed endless. Did James act alone?
With an accomplice? Did the accomplice kill
James and intend to carry out the blackmail and
get the money for himself? Or was James’ confes-
sion and death all a ploy to throw our attention off
the real blackmailer? And would the real
Loverboy be coming after Daniel? Who could that
be? We were fresh out of suspects.
Daniel’s voice came through the phone in the
key of dread. “But how will we ever find this
accomplice? It could be someone I don’t even
know! Someone I’ve never met! How…how…oh,
God, Russell! And I thought this was over.”
“Daniel, it might be. I could be wrong about
this.” I waited a moment and only heard breath-
ing. I had also meant to tell Daniel about his wife’s
visit to my office but…well, maybe he didn’t real-
ly need to know that right now.
Anthony Bidulka — 321
“So what do we do now?”
“Well, if you still stand by your decision not to
pay the money, I think Loverboy—if there still is a
Loverboy or a replacement Loverboy—will be
forced into making another move. Soon.”
“And until then?”
“Until then we try to come up with some new
suspects. And…be careful.”
I stood at the balcony doors of my office for a long
while, contemplating the slushy street and gloomy
sky outside, both the same shade of grey. The fore-
casters were predicting a massive snowstorm and
the clouds looked heavy, like overfull bags of
grimy laundry, but a single flake had yet to fall.
Although I try never to encourage dangerous
behaviour in my clients—that was my job—I
silently approved of Daniel’s decision not to pay
Loverboy; assuming someone other than James
Kraft, who was now out of the picture, was
involved. The letter Daniel’d received was the first
sign the plan had merit. By breaking the routine of
acquiescence, Daniel had forced Loverboy to take
action and the more activity Loverboy was forced
into, the more likely it was that he would either
screw up, show himself or be scared off. I was
hoping he wouldn’t be scared off. I didn’t like the
idea of a blackmailer remaining unpunished.
However, with increased activity, came increased
risk that Loverboy would make good on his
threats and tell the world that Daniel Guest liked
having sex with other men. Yet Daniel seemed
322 — F l i g h t o f A q u av i t
willing to take that risk. Why? Was he really so
intent on catching his blackmailer? Or was there
something else going on here? Maybe, deep
down, he wanted to be found out. Maybe he
wanted his wife to know the truth. Maybe he
thought it was easier to be outed by a blackmailer
than rallying the courage to say the words him-
self. If the reaction wasn’t good, he could simply
deny it all, whereas if the words came out of his
own mouth, well, that was harder to do.
Pulling my gaze from the mesmerizing swirls
of grey, I made my way to my desk. After convers-
ing with SaskTel directory assistance, I dialled a
number.
“Jane Cross Investigations. How can I help
you?” The pleasant voice belonged to a woman.
“I’d like to speak with Jane. It’s Russell Quant
calling.”
“What do you want?” The pleasant voice mor-
phed instantaneously into the hard-edged tones
used by the tough little brunette detective I’d met
in New York.
“I missed you in New York. You never said
goodbye.” I said affably. I was about to add some-
thing about her running off with her tail between
her legs but wisely held off.
“I’m sure Ralph Lorent and Johnny Versocky
kept you good company.”
“Are you referring to Ralph Lauren and Gianni
Versace?”
“I asked what you wanted, Quant.”
“So you’re out of a job and back home in Regina
with nothing to do?”
Anthony Bidulka — 323
“Is there a point to this call?” she asked impa-
tiently. “Other than to irritate me?”
I really wanted to answer in the negative, just
to hear her reaction, but concluded it probably
wasn’t a good idea to make her mad. “Listen, Jane,
I’m looking for a bit of professional courtesy here,
a favour. I know you can’t tell me anything about
your case or who hired you…right…?” Couldn’t
hurt to try one more time.
I could imagine her pulling the receiver away
from her ear and looking at it with incredulity
before finally smacking it on her desktop a few
times to ensure it was working. “That’s right, bub.
And what on earth would ever lead you to think
I’d do you a favour?”
I didn’t like the tone in her voice. “Hey, wait a
second, Cross, I think you
do
owe me something!
Not only have you scared my mother out of her
wits, sprayed me in the face with hairspray, and
physically attacked me in my hotel room, but
you’ve disrupted the progress of my case under
the false assumption that you knew what you
were doing when in reality, you didn’t!”
She made a sound that reminded me of an
angry bull. “You wait one second, Quant! I’ll have
you know that I was only doing my job and you
should know that better than anyone! You were,
after all…” And she stopped there, on the edge of
saying too much.
“I was what?”
“You know, Quant, part of my job was to find
out who the hell you are. Well…now I know.
You’re an asshole!”
324 — F l i g h t o f A q u av i t
I laughed.
She laughed.
We seemed to have the same sense of humour.
I could work with that.
“Will you help me?” I asked once I stopped
guffawing.
“What do you need?”
“Are you still on me? I just want to make sure
I’m not missing something. Things have gotten a
lot more serious here. The guy I told you I was fol-
lowing in New York City is dead. I want to make
sure that what you were after—whatever it was
about me you were looking for—has nothing to do
with my blackmail case.”
She sighed. “If I tell you, you’ll owe me.”
I was about to argue with the logic of that con-
clusion but decided against it. “Whatever.”
Stony silence.
“Yeah, alright, okay, I’ll owe you.”
“I’ve been called off. For now. And like I said
before, it had nothing to do with no blackmail.
Best I can do, Quant.”
And that…would have to be good enough. For
now.
I spent the rest of the day going over every scrap
of information I’d collected and stored in my
paper and computer files. I returned to my sus-
pect chart several times and tried out every possi-
ble scenario I could come up with, sensible or not,
for whodunit and howdunit. It was gruelling and
mind-numbing and ultimately unrevealing.
Anthony Bidulka — 325
Done with banging my discouraged head
against the wood of my desk and resisting an
evening of companionship with the alcoholic con-
tents of my desk-fridge, I shrugged myself into my
winter garb and headed to my car. And there, in
the parking lot behind PWC, my perfect day took
a turn for the sublime. Somehow looking like a
dispirited version of its usual self was my inno-
cent, little Mazda, defaced and deformed. Each tire
had been slashed, a sharp instrument of some sort