Wilson,â said Laura.
Seconds later, Jack punched in a phone number on his cellphone. âGood afternoon, may I speak to Mister Herman Varrick please ⦠oh, I see, youâre his mother,â he said. âYes, Iâm calling from Manhattan, Westmount, and Wilson.⦠Yes it is about his upcoming trial.⦠No, Iâm sorry, his trial is still going ahead and it is imperative that we locate your son immediately.⦠I would call him, but the phone number we have is no longer in service.⦠Thank you, I would appreciate that â¦â Jack quickly jotted down a number and asked, âThat is a cell number, is it?⦠We donât need to talk to your son as much as we need to courier him some documentation. Could you confirm his current address?.⦠Itâs called Headstones ? Yes, Iâve heard of the place. I believe we have the address on file from a previous client. Thank you very much.⦠It is a transcript from his preliminary hearing.⦠He already has that? Then I am extremely sorry for having bothered you. Our secretary should have made a notation on the file. We wonât need to contact your son, then.â
Jack hung up and winked at Laura before calling for Connie to come back in. When she did, he said, âIt worked. Iâve got his cell number and address.â
âFantastic,â said Connie. âHow did you do it?â
âPretended to be a friend looking for him,â said Jack
âMan,â said Connie. âI never thought these guys would fall for that old line. This is great, Iâll find out who heâs been talking with.â
I didnât think they would fall for that either, thought Jack. He looked at Connie and said, âI wouldnât get your hopes up on getting much in the way of phone tolls. He gave this number to his mother, so itâs his permanent number. Heâll be using disposable phones for the stuff weâre interested in. Cellphones that heâll toss out every week or so.â
Connie frowned and said, âHope youâre wrong. What about his address?â
âFamiliar with a place out in White Rock the bikers have nicknamed Headstones?â
âNope,â replied Connie. âMust not have had any murders there.â
âNone reported,â replied Jack. âHeadstones is a three-storey older house a couple of blocks back from the beach. It used to be a bed and breakfast place before it was bought by a close associate to Satans Wrath.â
âMore of a silent partnership,â added Laura.
âItâs a party place for people they donât necessarily trust enough to bring to their real clubhouse,â continued Jack. âAlso a crash pad for some. The bikers nicknamed it Headstones.â
âOdd name,â said Connie. âSounds like a place where we should excavate the yard.â
âYou want another pig farm?â asked Jack.
âHell, no,â replied Connie, thinking of the killing ground of one of B.C.âs more notorious serial killers.
âRelax, I donât think the bikers are that stupid,â continued Jack. âIt got its name from a couple of large rocks on each side of the entrance to the driveway. A lot of prospective club members or associates live there and run the place. It has about eight bedrooms and Varrick is staying in one of them.â
âThe place isnât easy to watch,â cautioned Laura. âTheyâve got people coming and going all the time and some are the type who pay attention to anything that looks like it could be surveillance. On top of that, the prospects often do a walk-about checking for heat. There is a place Jack and I found where you can watch if you use binoculars, but if you get any closer youâre liable to get burned.â
âSuggestions?â asked Connie.
âHow about you apply for a wiretap on Varrick while Laura and I try to identify what heâs driving and
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