Read Online Dead Ends by Don Easton - Free Book Online

Wilson,” said Laura.
    Seconds later, Jack punched in a phone number on his cellphone. “Good afternoon, may I speak to Mister Herman Varrick please … oh, I see, you’re his mother,” he said. “Yes, I’m calling from Manhattan, Westmount, and Wilson.… Yes it is about his upcoming trial.… No, I’m 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 …” Jack quickly jotted down a number and asked, “That is a cell number, is it?… We don’t need to talk to your son as much as we need to courier him some documentation. Could you confirm his current address?.… It’s called Headstones ? Yes, I’ve 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 won’t need to contact your son, then.”
    Jack hung up and winked at Laura before calling for Connie to come back in. When she did, he said, “It worked. I’ve got his cell number and address.”
    â€œFantastic,” said Connie. “How did you do it?”
    â€œPretended to be a friend looking for him,” said Jack
    â€œMan,” said Connie. “I never thought these guys would fall for that old line. This is great, I’ll find out who he’s been talking with.”
    I didn’t think they would fall for that either, thought Jack. He looked at Connie and said, “I wouldn’t get your hopes up on getting much in the way of phone tolls. He gave this number to his mother, so it’s his permanent number. He’ll be using disposable phones for the stuff we’re interested in. Cellphones that he’ll toss out every week or so.”
    Connie frowned and said, “Hope you’re wrong. What about his address?”
    â€œFamiliar with a place out in White Rock the bikers have nicknamed Headstones?”
    â€œNope,” replied Connie. “Must not have had any murders there.”
    â€œNone reported,” replied Jack. “Headstones 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€œMore of a silent partnership,” added Laura.
    â€œIt’s a party place for people they don’t necessarily trust enough to bring to their real clubhouse,” continued Jack. “Also a crash pad for some. The bikers nicknamed it Headstones.”
    â€œOdd name,” said Connie. “Sounds like a place where we should excavate the yard.”
    â€œYou want another pig farm?” asked Jack.
    â€œHell, no,” replied Connie, thinking of the killing ground of one of B.C.’s more notorious serial killers.
    â€œRelax, I don’t think the bikers are that stupid,” continued Jack. “It 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€œThe place isn’t easy to watch,” cautioned Laura. “They’ve 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 you’re liable to get burned.”
    â€œSuggestions?” asked Connie.
    â€œHow about you apply for a wiretap on Varrick while Laura and I try to identify what he’s driving and