Page 68 of Mann Hunt
Charlie nodded and whispered back, “I’m just interested in finding a space. If you can’t talk about it, maybe you could give me a name and a number I could call to make my own enquiries? Maybe you’d even get a referral fee.”
It was clear that Dylan was working out his options.
“Tell you what—if you leave me your number, I’ll make sure to pass it on. I could use one of those referral fees,” he said as he grabbed a pen and piece of paper, then stared at Charlie, waiting.
“Right. Perfect. My name’s Scott Lazar. That’s L—A—Z—A—R.”
“Like the light beam, right?”
Charlie wasn’t so sure that Dylan’s business was ever going to be a great success. “Yeah. Like the light beam.”
“Cool. And your number?”
“Here.” Charlie took the paper and wrote down a number, passing it to Dylan before realising the number he had made up had only nine digits instead of ten.
Dylan didn’t seem to notice. He looked at the paper and said, “Cool. I’ll let them know.”
Charlie wondered if Dylan’s napping was a sign of a more serious medical issue. “Great. Anyway, Dylan, I’ll let you get back to work. Have a great day!”
“Same to you.”
Charlie waved and left the store. He looked back through the window as he walked by, expecting he’d see Dylan asleep in his chair. Instead, he was chatting away on the phone, gesticulating wildly and looking at Charlie through the window.
Three shop doors down, Charlie entered All Things Go Round, a used record store.
A pretty blonde woman with cobalt blue lipstick and bright pink eyeshadow sat behind the counter. Music played loudly in the otherwise unoccupied store.
“Great song,” Charlie shouted.
“What?” the woman responded.
Pointing to the speaker, Charlie yelled louder, “Great song,” but by then she’d had time to twist the volume control down, so his voice rang out through the store, overwhelming Simon and Garfunkel’sBridge Over Troubled Water.
“They’re one of my favourite groups,” she said.
Charlie walked over to the counter and leaned on it. In his most seductive voice, he introduced himself. “My name’s Scott. Scott Lazar. Can I ask you a question?”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Declan made his way to Luke’s apartment. He pondered the Monarch puzzle. If he’d only been able to get the name of the person in charge.
After being buzzed into the building, he took the elevator up to the fifteenth floor.This place is posh. Declan knocked on the door, which opened, revealing Luke’s million-dollar smile. Declan’s heart skipped a beat.
“I’ll be back in just a sec. I’m on the phone in the other room. Make yourself at home.”
Declan walked in and sat on the couch. From the other room he could hear Luke’s muffled voice. He couldn’t make out what was being said, but the tone of the conversation sounded heated. Declan looked around. Luke was doing quite well for himself. Through the window of the corner unit, Declan could clearly make out the Calgary Tower, the Bow River and the midway rides on the Stampede grounds. Then his gaze was drawn to the coffee table, and a stack of mail. The top envelope was stamped ‘Final Notice’.
“I thought you’d never get here,” Luke said, coming back into the room. “Sorry about that. It was my dad.” He sat on the couch, grabbed Declan by the shoulders and pulled him in for a quick kiss.
Declan smiled. “Nice place. When I was a constable, I was lucky to afford a basement one-bedroom apartment. Looks like you’ve got, what, a two-bedroom, with a den and view of the mountains? Something you want to tell me?”
“My folks bought it for me, and the fancy couch we’re sitting on is courtesy of a long shot on a horse that paid off.”
“Do you always win?”
“Sometimes I win, sometimes I lose, but let’s not talk about that.” Luke kissed Declan’s neck. “So, anything new on the case?”
Declan pushed Luke away. “Not so fast, officer. I don’t give up information that easily. What’s in it for me?”
