A Fine Mess

Chapter 37

The house sat way back on the property. A gated drive approached the front at an angle and from what Gil could see through the iron fence, there were no other visitors. Moira, of course came by taxi so it was likely just the two of them. He decided to walk around the perimeter and see if he could find a way in without announcing himself. It seemed WesCat was a profitable place to work; the property had to be a couple of acres at least.

The gate ran a fair distance along the side then ended, replaced by a thick hedge of ornamental cedars with a thin wire fence woven among the trunks. Darkness had arrived in full and Gil had to be careful picking his way over the uneven ground around to the back. The hedge ended and he found himself in a dense cluster of trees, bush and bramble.

Across a huge expanse of lawn he could see lights in a room beyond the garden and while watching he saw shadows passing back and forth behind the sheer curtains. He considered the wisdom of confronting two of the suspects by himself and thought better of it. He would just do a little spying and maybe uncover further damning evidence.

Howard glanced at the car parked in the shadows down from Forbin's driveway and squinted off into space, thinking. This was the car he'd seen at the lawyer's office. Petchorik. Now what was he doing at Forbin's? And why is it parked out here in the shadows? He drove past and around the end of the crescent, parking in the overhanging cover of a giant maple tree. After sorting through the contents of the bag, Howard made an executive decision to join the high stakes game and get a little more for himself.

Twenty-four years he'd been doing the heavy work for people like Forbin and over the past few he could feel the wear and tear of time. It was still his kind of fun but even he needed an end of day place to let it all hang out; a place where nobody knew his past and there were no warrants against him. Miriam had paid handsomely for his services and Myles had coughed up his going rate but now there was an opportunity for even more and Howard felt that now was the time to get as much as he could and retire.

He climbed out and got the green garbage bag from the trunk and set off across the backyard of Forbin's neighbour. At the back of the house he could hear shouting and he set the bag down, creeping around to the patio where he could make out the figure of Myles pacing back and forth, waving his arms. As he started creeping closer he heard the scrape of shoes on the flagstones and he stepped quietly back into the shadows, eyes focused on the dark, far side of the patio.

Gil crept closer to the edge of the patio door and peered in through the sliver of a gap between the curtain and the frame. Moira stood leaning on the back of a black leather sofa, glaring darkly at the man who he assumed was Forbin, pacing angrily back and forth ranting unintelligibly. He turned his head and placed his ear next to the glass to see if he could pick up the words and his eyes lit on the toes of a pair of shoes on the other side of the door.

Myles Forbin opened the front door and frowned angrily at the intrusion. Gil coughed and fought to regain his breath from his failed dash to get away.

"What do you want? Who are you? I know you." Myles was flushed and in no mood for trifling.

"Yes, you do. I'm Brian Cathcart's lawyer. My name is Gil Petchorik." He stood straighter, locking eyes with Myles and watching the information process behind the black eyes.

"I repeat," he said with less authority, "what do you want?"

"He wants to come in, Forbin."

"Jesus!" Myles blanched and stepped back as Tillman moved into the light of the doorway, brandishing a very large gun. "What's going on? Who the devil are you?"

"I want to talk about cell phones and hotels and beatings... and most of all, the financial affairs of WesCat's major shareholders." Tillman pushed Gil ahead of him toward the hallway. "The lawyer here probably wants some answers on the same subjects. Right, lawyer?" Tillman's laugh was rough and mean.

Gil licked his lips and nodded in agreement, figuring he might as well take Tillman's side—he did have the gun.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Myles began to close the door.

"I also want to speak with Janet Smith." The door wavered and slowly opened again. Myles directed his stare at Gil with a palpable hatred mixed with fear. "And I know she's here."

"Good job, lawyer!" Tillman praised, slapping him roughly on the back and pushing him further into the house.

"Then you might as well come in." Myles stepped back, his eyes cast down to the green garbage bag, and his skin tone graying visibly.

Moira's hand fell to the sofa beside her when Gil and Myles entered the living room at the end of a gun wielded by a tall, ugly looking man. Her face was pale and she looked like she was ready to cry. Gil moved to one side away from Myles, pleased to note that his captor ignored the action.

"What's going on, Myles? Why is he here and who is this- this thug?"

"Good evening, Mrs. Weston, or do you prefer Janet Smith?" Her eyes darted to Myles who turned away, walking resignedly to the bar.

"Myles?"

"I don't know for certain who he is but I can guess. Howard Tillman."

"The one who—" Moira clasped a hand over her mouth and stared wide-eyed at Howard.

"The very same, Moira," Howard leered. "Bet you're happy to meet me finally, right?" She began to speak but nothing came out and he stepped forward, setting down the bag and enjoying her obvious discomfort.

"Myles, do something!"

"That's enough. Lawyer. Over here and sit. You too, Forbin." Howard waved the gun at the sofa and took up a post facing them all from behind a matching chair. It looked like Gil hadn't been forgotten after all and he obeyed nervously.

"Class is in session, gang. First question on the test." He let the barrel of the gun drift toward Moira. "How much are you going to pay me to get out of your life tonight?"