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  One of Lane’s eyebrows lifted. “Matt stuck up for her?”

  Arthur nodded, smiling. “Yes, and Dan agreed, which kind of made Christine happier.”

  “That’s good.” Outside movement caught Lane’s eye. A man pushed a baby carriage with a sleeping infant under the shade of a canopy, a toddler perched on his shoulders. “What did you have to say?”

  “Mostly I let them work it out.”

  “Really?” Lane smiled as he looked at his partner.

  “I know. It was a struggle, but I figured my big mouth would only complicate matters.”

  “So it was John who came up with the condo idea?”

  Arthur nodded. “Apparently. He said they had a condo looking for a tenant and he offered it to the kids rent-free as a kind of peace offering.”

  “No strings attached?” Lane shook his head remembering Lola pulling the strings in Cuba.

  “He didn’t use those words.”

  Lane inhaled then exhaled slowly. “It’s really Christine and Dan’s decision.”

  “I know. And Lola will always be a pain in the ass. But —”

  “But what?”

  “— she can only manipulate us if we let her.”

  “You’re forgetting something.” Lane opened the door.

  “What’s that?”

  “Lola only goes along with what benefits Lola.”

  Terri handed him a moccaccino. “You look like shit again.”

  Lane tried to smile. “Actually, I believe I’m feeling better.”

  Terri shook her head as if to say Don’t bullshit me. “It was you and the young guy who got that Mara asshole.”

  “Nigel was the one who grabbed him.” Lane took a sip to see if it would revive him.

  “Can’t believe he killed that many people.”

  Lane raised his eyebrows, then shrugged.

  “Anyway.” She lifted her right hand. “Good job.”

  “Thanks.” Lane raised his cup, then walked down the mall.

  Five minutes later, Lori watched him as he walked into the office. She lifted a bottle of acetaminophen. “Got another migraine?”

  “No, but thanks.” He held his palm out as she dropped a couple of pills into it. “What’s up?”

  “Besides the fact that you’re looking slightly spiffy today?”

  “Spiffy?”

  “That’s what my dad used to call it when he got all dressed up.”

  Lane tried to smile.

  “Harper asked to see you and Nigel when you got in. Want me to call and see whether he’s available?” Lori reached for her phone.

  “Sure.” He stepped inside of the office, set his coffee down on his desk and hung his jacket over the back of his chair. He picked up his cup and went to the door. “Nigel around?”

  Lori put her hand over the receiver. “In the little boys’ room.” She looked out into the hallway. “Here he is.” She pointed at Lane and then toward the ceiling. “Off you go.”

  Nigel joined him in the hallway and they rode the elevator to Harper’s office. Jean wore a white blouse and newly quaffed silver hair. “He’ll be available in a minute.” She was ten seconds off.

  Lane and Nigel went inside and sat down at the coffee table. Lane looked at his coffee cup, then at the others. “Sorry, guys.”

  Harper waved his hand. “Not important.” He didn’t smile.

  Shit. Bad news again, Lane thought.

  “We found our elevator repair guy. A friend in the RCMP sent me this.” He waved them over and pointed at a picture on his computer monitor. “The repair man was able to avoid every security camera but this one.” The image revealed a man with dark hair mostly concealed by a grey ball cap. He wore a jacket with ELEVATOR SERVICE written across the front.

  “Sean Pike,” Lane said.

  Nigel looked at Harper, then Lane. “Who?”

  “Brother of Stan Pike.” Harper said.

  “This means the killing of Mara was an inside job,” Lane said.

  “He’s a cop?” Nigel asked.

  Harper nodded. “I was wondering who would take over Moreau’s operation. It looks like Pike’s been anointed.”

  “Pike’s on the MCSC list we got from Rogerson. Do the RCMP have him in custody?” Lane asked.

  Harper shook his head. “Pike’s in the wind.”

  Lane asked, “You saw the list?”

  Harper nodded.

  “You saw Fuentes there, then.”

  Harper said, “That’s right.”

  “Fuentes?” Nigel asked.

  “From Mexico. Has connections with the UN gang in Vancouver. Looks like he’s expanding,” Harper said.

  “Where does that leave us?” Nigel asked.

  “Good question.” Lane took the last pull from his moccaccino.

  After they left Harper’s office, rode the elevator down and stepped out onto the main floor, Nigel looked at Lane’s cup, then asked, “Want another one?”

  “That would be great.” Lane tossed the cup in the office garbage can while Nigel turned and headed out onto the street.

  Lane walked into his office. Lori’s chair was pushed up next to the keyboard and her sweater hung neatly on the chair’s back. She’s gone for lunch. He took the keys from his pocket, opened the door to his office, took off his jacket, hung it behind the door and sat down behind his computer. He looked at the tiny tape recorder on his desk, reached into the drawer and pulled out a pair of new batteries. He took the old ones out, dropped them in his drawer and put the new batteries in. Then he opened his computer and looked over the map they’d created for the Mara file.

  There was a knock on his open door. He looked up and saw Lola dressed in a grey business pantsuit. A white crocodile handbag hung over her shoulder. A red silk scarf was wrapped around her neck. “Hello, detective.”

  What are you doing here? Lane nodded. “Hello, Lola.” He got up as she closed the door, then stood with her back to it. He sat back down. He fought the anxiety making his nerve endings tingle and his belly clench. He glanced right, spotted the tape recorder, reached over and switched it on.

  “I wanted to speak with you about my grandson.” Lola put her right hand across her chest to hold the straps of her handbag.

  Lane inhaled. I’ve just heard confessions from a serial killer and the former solicitor general. Why does she intimidate me?

  “John and I have spoken, and we feel that Dan, Christine and Indiana need a place of their own.”

  “That’s what you’ve decided?” Lane adopted his interrogation voice out of habit. Here it comes.

  “We offered them one of our condominiums rent-free.”

  Lane waited. You knew yesterday’s joy would be followed with something like this.

  “I’ve been concerned for Indiana’s safety because of your work. Matt was kidnapped as a result of your choice of profession, and you must agree that Indiana’s safety is a priority. It’s best for them if they have a safe place to raise their family.” She lifted her chin. “And I have some very personal concerns.”

  “They are?”

  “My grandson is growing up in the home of a killer.” She raised her open hand again, expecting opposition from Lane.

  He inhaled slowly and focused on her eyes. Is she nuts?

  “Of course what you did was legal, but I think you will agree — if you look at the situation dispassionately — that Indiana’s psychological needs would be better served in an environment free from the inevitable aftermath of such an event. Besides, he needs a more traditional family environment.” Lola waited before asking, “Have you anything to say?”

  The door opened, it hit Lola in the backside and Nigel’s head appeared. “Sorry.”

  Lola turned, opened the door wide, looked over her shoulder at Lane and said, “It’s for the best.” She walked past Nigel and was gone.

  Nigel stepped into the office with three cups in a pressed cardboard tray. “Sorry about that. I didn’t know you had someone in here.”

&n
bsp; Lori appeared behind Nigel. “Who was the woman with the Gadino?”

  “Gadino?” Nigel asked as he set the tray on his desktop.

  “The white handbag with the white diamonds. Do you have any idea how much one of those costs?” She looked at Lane.

  He shrugged, reached for the tape recorder, shut it off and asked, “How much?”

  Just carry on as if nothing’s happened. He felt a deep sense of emptiness. Does Lola have a point? Fatigue crashed upon him.

  Lori said, “Over thirty thousand dollars.”

  “Is that all?” Lane said. Lola, who else have you been persuading?

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Doctors Bruce and Navaid, thank you.

  Thank you to the amazing people at Pages Books on Kensington for supporting local writers.

  Again, thanks to Tony Bidulka and Wayne Gunn.

  Mary, Alex and Sebi, thanks for the suggestions and feedback.

  Thank you to the kind staff at Iberostar Playa Alemdeda in Veradero, Cuba.

  Matt, Jenna, Natalie, Leslie, Claire, Jason and Cathy: thanks for all that you do. In particular, thank you, Leslie, for the way you painstakingly edit and refine the novels to create an infinitely improved story.

  Detective Dave Sweet, your information is invaluable.

  Thanks to creative writers at Nickle, Bowness, Lord Beaverbrook, Alternative, Forest Lawn and Queen Elizabeth.

  Sharon, Karma, Luke, Ben, Indiana and Ella. Every day I feel fortunate to be part of this family.

  In 2004, Garry Ryan published his first Detective Lane novel, Queen’s Park. The second, The Lucky Elephant Restaurant, won a 2007 Lambda Literary Award. He has since published eight more titles in the series. In 2009, Ryan was awarded Calgary’s Freedom of Expression Award. He currently lives in Calgary.